The Blue Rose, Aye, and the Black
by Hesperusa
Summary: Post-movie. The happily-ever-after doesn't last long when Prince Adam's past reemerges, taking our young lovers to the scandal and corruption of the French court.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! Seeing as I eventually came to the conclusion that if I didn't publish SOMETHING I wouldn't publishing ANYTHING, here is the first chapter of my little project. Enjoy!**

* * *

Belle smiled as she sat at her dressing table, hearing the clock strike midnight. A magical hour. _Truth be told, I'm not feeling very magical_, she thought to herself, glancing wryly at her daintily shod feet peeping from the hem of her dress. The delicate gold slippers which had looked so beautiful on her feet when she donned them this morning were now a source of irritation, as a full night's dancing in them had left her feet sore and swollen.

But oh what a night!

The servants, the lords and ladies, all who had been transformed were now human again. They had attended the wedding and the following ball in their gayest clothes, marveling at how well they looked in their human forms. There had been every reason for joy, laughing, and feasting. The curse was broken, their master was reformed, and his marriage to Belle was celebrated greatly, for the young woman had worked her way into everyone's heart through her kindness, her intelligence, and that spirit that sparked so brightly within her.

There was a knock on the door, bringing Belle out of her reverie.

"Come in," she called with a smile, even as Ms. Potts and Madame Armoire entered.

"Oh Belle dear what a glorious evening!" Madame Armoire proclaimed, "I have not danced so in years! And I do believe quite a few of the men noticed that I remain as ever quite in step with the music! Of course I don't blame the other ladies one bit, for I have a natural talent for dancing, I have little need for practice!"

"Oh come now Madame," Ms. Potts chided the other women gently, "Can't you see our mistress is quite exhausted? Come Belle, let us help you with your things."

Belle willingly surrendered to their ministrations. She was in no mood to reach the lacings on her dress or stays, and she would have as soon as fallen asleep in her panniers. She listened fondly to their chatter as they divested her of all her clothing except her chemise. When they had finished, Ms. Potts sat her back down to brush her hair, and Madame Armoire excused herself, claiming a need for beauty rest.

"I do believe this was the best ball the master has ever thrown," Ms. Potts declared as the door shut behind Madame Armoire.

"I hope everyone else enjoyed themselves," Belle said with a smile, "I most certainly did. Surrounded by friends, my father, Adam…it was a perfect night."

Ms. Potts hesitated a moment, "But for a newly married couple, we hope it is not over quite yet?"

"I –" Belle began, and fought a blush. The ball continued unabated downstairs; the sounds of the guests wafted from the open windows of the ballroom. Adam, she supposed, was still down there.

_You look tired_, he'd told her gently, about an hour ago; _Go and get some rest. I'll come to you later_.

She had colored then, almost as deeply as she was blushing now. She'd waved her fan furiously, hoping he would attribute it to the heat of the ballroom. She'd mumbled some agreement and had fled the scene.

"Adam said he would come later, after I had rested," she answered quietly.

"Belle, dearie, you do….you do know what happens between a husband and wife?" Ms. Potts asked with concern.

"Of course," Belle answered quickly, "I read about it in a book…."

Her voice faded away, and she wondered if she should have mentioned that. Ms. Potts only chuckled.

"Of course you did, love. I do hope you're not nervous? I know you haven't a mother to explain these things to you, and I'd gladly stand in her place if you have any need of me."

"No, I'm not nervous," Belle told her, again a little too quickly, and not meeting her eyes. _Fool_, Belle chided herself, _it is a natural process, carried out by all animals in the world. It is necessary for the begetting of children. Hundreds, millions of women have gone through it before me, and many more will after. It will not do to be afraid_.

Ms. Potts patted her head gently, "You'll be alright, dearie. With love and trust, everything will work out. And Adam loves you very much."

"I know," Belle said quietly. Ms. Potts smiled and kissed the top of her head with motherly affection.

"I best take myself off then, these bones are too old for such excitement as we've had tonight. I'll see you in the morning."

Once Ms. Potts had gone, Belle wandered, wondering what to do with herself before Adam arrived. He had told her to rest. But if he was to come to her later…how would she do it? Shouldn't she seem appealing when he arrived?

First she tried getting in bed. Her normal position of sleep, on her stomach, felt too sloppy. How would she look if Adam came in and woke her up? She switched to lying on her back.

"Sleeping Beauty," she pronounced, closing her eyes. Lying there, stretched out, felt so unnatural. She crossed her arms over her chest and grinned to herself.

"A corpse….Juliet, whom Romeo believes to be dead."

She abandoned the bed.

She tried to make herself comfortable in the large armchair, but found she either curled up as a child within it, or was in danger of drooling if she fell asleep sitting with her head propped up on her fist.

"Chair, you are uncouth," she informed it as she vacated the seat.

There was the settee. She draped herself over it, like Cleopatra once did, after having held a snake to her breast. She threw herself upon it, a romance heroine despondent without her lover. She lay upon it with her gaze directed towards the door, Delilah waiting to beckon her Samson.

"Oh forget it!" Belle snapped to herself, losing patience. She crawled into the window seat and drew her knees up to her chest. She looked down, leaning her head against the cool glass. The ball had spilled out from the ballroom onto the large balcony. Even in winter, so many people gathered together made the ballroom uncomfortably warm. There were still many people dancing, cavorting, gathering in joyous groups. Belle smiled to herself, and felt her eyelids begin to droop.

* * *

Adam leaned against the wall of the corridor and took a deep breath. He had narrowly escaped Lumière and Cogsworth as they had brought out yet more champagne. He would not be drunk tonight, not this first night of his marriage.

He looked down the hall, to the first of the steps to the upper stories of the castle. Anticipation gripped him. His first kiss with Belle, the one he had given her when he became human, had been a pure expression of joy. But every one after that had been filled with love, and not a little lust. Today, after the priest had bound their fates together, Adam had wanted nothing more than to continue that kiss which made her his, and carry her away immediately to the nearest private room.

But he was not a beast, not anymore. He could and would restrain himself. He believed he had performed most admirably. Throughout the ball there had been a kiss here or there which had sorely tested his resolve, but all in all he had been gracious to his guests and chastely attentive to his new wife. Now, however, the time had almost come.

He was nervous.

In the years when other boys of his age and rank would be exploring passions with servants and peasant girls, he had hated himself, his body, the grotesque spectacle he saw every time he caught a glance of his reflection. The only passion within his breast had been his own self-disgust.

Adam stopped in front of a mirror hanging on a landing. He preened a little, then turned away in disgust.

"Belle loved you before this," he reminded himself through clenched teeth, "Remember Gaston. She is equally capable of hating you, despite your new appearance."

Oh, he was caught. The thought of Belle's smooth skin against his fought with the fear of how she would react to his lovemaking. What if he hurt her? What if she too was scared, and did not want him to touch her? What if his lack of experience was to blame? Although Lumière had sought to remedy _that_ problem, with a series of theatrical talks in which he tried to impart to the prince his own carefully acquired knowledge of the female body….

Adam stopped in front of a window, and gazed at a more shadowed reflection of himself.

"If Belle does not wish me to touch her this night, I will not," he promised the reflection, "I will lay at the far end of the bed, I will sleep in her armchair, I will wait until she is prepared to accept me."

The vision came unbidden of Belle naked before him and he bit his thumb to remind himself of his resolve.

One more flight of stairs, and he would reach the third floor. Twenty more steps and he would be outside her door. A few scant inches, and his fingers would clasp the handle. It turned easily, before he could decide if he should knock first. It was too late; he was in the room, the door clicking quietly close behind him.

And there was Belle.

She'd fallen asleep on her window seat, breathing quietly. He admired her beauty, careless, unrefined, the beauty of a tranquil, uncivilized land. This was when she was most beautiful – not when she was jeweled and bedecked in silk, but when she might have been a forest sprite who existed free from the eyes of humankind.

And he wanted her.

That mouth, uncontrived and easily given to smiles, would just as easily cry out in unguarded pleasure. Those eyes, which read another's darkest secrets as easily as they challenged and teased, could darken and close with desire. Perhaps she would be shy, but beneath that he knew her heart was passionate.

Adam took a calming breath, and went to gently wake Belle.

* * *

Belle felt the warm hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes, smiling as Adam sat near her on the window seat. He answered with a smile of his own, taking her hands in one of his, and using his other hand to smooth a few strands of hair away from her face.

"I'm sorry to disturb your sleep, my love," he said quietly, and Belle felt a thrill from the deep rumble of his voice. This was not a tone he had not used before; it was one that she knew did not belong in public for all their friends to hear. It was low, warm, and….expectant.

"You did not disturb me," she informed him with a shy smile, "I was waiting for you."

He kissed her. It was soft and gentle, a mere brushing of the lips. His hands stayed passively where they had been. He kissed her again, just as softly. The third time, his face ducked and he kissed her neck, just below the corner of her jaw. She gasped. The hand that had been touching her face slid down to cup the back of her neck as he drew back to look at her.

"You know what will happen?" he asked, and his breath was faster than it had been before.

"I read in a book…" she tried to tell him, but her own mind was less focused than it had been before.

"Then you must promise me…."he paused, hesitating, then speaking faster, "You must promise me to tell me if it hurts, or if there's…anything you don't like."

"I'm not afraid," she told him, "I trust you."

He gave her a wry smile, "It is quite a thing to trust a man in a situation such as this."

"You're not just any man," Belle replied, "And I find you wonderful in all things. Because I love you."

She could not describe the look he gave her, only that it made her gut clench and her skin felt feverish. The hand at her neck brought her closer, and the other hand fastened around her waist to the same purpose. Her chest was pressed against his as he tilted her head and his kisses changed. They were not longer gentle and chaste, they demanded, they plundered. Belle drew her head back to catch a breath, to try to analyze the heated feelings running through her body. She had no time to do so; Adam was kissing down her neck, then the center of her chest, then the soft flesh at the tops of her breasts. One of his hands was at the middle of her back, holding her, while the older was moving possessively down towards her backside. He was too big, too strong, she was overwhelmed…

"Adam –"

The gasp of his name brought his lips back to hers. He gently pulled her up, and still kissing her, lead her to the bed. As he gently guided her to lie on the bed next to him, her breath quickened, but this time with some apprehension.

"Don't worry," he whispered, kissing her cheek just in front of her ear and stroking her arm from shoulder to elbow, "We won't….Not yet."

"Adam?" she began timidly.

"Yes?" he asked, leaning back to look down at her. She found she had trouble meeting his eyes.

"Could….could you blow out the candles?"

Without another word he stood and swept around the room, extinguishing all the candles until only the faint starlight gave faint illumination to the room. Belle felt herself begin to panic slightly, in the dark, amongst the unknown, and wondered if it had been wise to save her modestly in the darkness. Then Adam returned to her side and renewed his caresses, and thought became harder and harder to maintain.

There was no more light to cast judgment on her actions. Devoid of sight, she only became more attuned to sensation. And the sensation was Adam, lying full on top of her, again kissing his way down her neck and chest, this time his hands rising up her rib cage, and his harsh breathing filling the room.

His hands suddenly cupped her breasts and she gasped as the material of her chemise moved, was drawn against her tight nipples. He buried his face between her breasts and she felt a pull down in her gut, and squirmed at the feel of his breath against her skin there. He exhaled sharply and brought his mouth to her nipple, sucking it through the fabric as the other hand kneaded her on the other side. It was strange, new, and she didn't know what to do with the urgency that was slowly building inside her.

His mouth gave a gentle tug and Belle could not escape the small sound that escaped her mouth, or the way her hips suddenly jerked, bringing them into contact in another place.

Adam groaned and he abandoned her breasts, his mouth now sucking her neck, his weight resting on his forearms as he thrust his pelvis against hers. Something hard in his trousers rubbed against something sensitive under her chemise, and this time her cry was louder.

Adam broke away from her mouth long enough to mutter a short oath, but before she could ask him if anything was wrong he was kissing her mouth again, with more force than ever before.

_He's trying to devour me_, she thought a little wildly, only faintly aware of his hand stroking her bare leg, reaching up under her chemise.

Her next cry was caught in his mouth as his fingers came up between her legs. For just a moment she was horrified by the wetness she suddenly perceived there. All thought fled her as his fingers moved just slightly upwards and touched something which made her whole body jump.

"Belle," he groaned in her ear.

"Adam," she gasped, completely at mercy to the feeling of his fingers moving between her legs, "Adam….oh!"

His fingers stopped their motion and Belle thought she would die if they did not continue.

"Adam, please!" Was this pleasure? Just now she would almost call it pain, as her body tightened and screamed for…._something!_

"I can make it better," his voice whispered huskily into her ear. She could feel his arm move, he was fumbling with his trousers, "Do you want that?"

"Adam, yes, please!" she didn't care, she wasn't afraid anymore, there was this feeling inside her and she didn't know what to do about it. She needed Adam.

"Kiss me, love," he whispered, and she brought his face to her own, kissing him desperately. His fingers returned to that place under her chemise, and there was something else there too. It didn't matter, she arched into his fingers, needing some sort of relief from this torment.

He pushed into her.

She gasped, her wildness gone for a moment, not sure of this strange new feeling, the slight pain that accompanied it. Adam was breathing harshly near her ear, his whole body now tense. There was a moment of stillness. And then Adam thrust into her. Belle made another little noise and raised her hands to brace against the headboard.

"Belle," Adam hissed, his voice as desperate with need as hers had been a moment before. One of his hands snaked between their bodies, back to that nub, stroking in time to his thrusts. Belle felt the building urgency again, heard Adam's breathing going faster, she did not recognize the noises coming out of her own mouth.

A wave came over her and she writhed, she arched her back, her muscles tightened as her bodied tried to accept the lightening which now shot through every fiber of her being. She was almost unaware of Adam stiffening above her, groaning as he gave his final thrusts into her.

Adam collapsed on top of her, and Belle tried to collect her breathing, waiting for the last sparks of lightening to fade away.

After a moment, Adam rolled off her, but did not leave. He gathered her to him, and she was engulfed by his arms and legs, his chin resting on the top of her head. She needed a new type of contact now, and she snuggled into his chest. But what to say? What to say when the earth was no longer solid, the air was fire, and this, here, was the only thing that mattered?

"Adam?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

He pulled her closer, "I love you too, _ma belle_."


	2. Chapter 2

The barest hints of dawn alighted through the windows of the castle, casting a warm glow through the halls that broke through the remaining shadows of night. Belle strolled leisurely through one of the large corridors, humming to herself softly. Her steps echoed quietly, themselves conscious of the peaceful stillness that pervaded the castle at this hour. So much had changed of late; this quietness existed now only at dawn, it was no longer the usual status within the grounds. Belle marveled at the change, how now every day she was surrounded by the talk of people; servants, ladies maids, manservants, minor lords and ladies who had been unfortunate enough to attend on the prince the night the witch came. They who were once imprisoned now acted as though the entire event had been a gay romp. Indeed, none of those who had been trapped within the castle for the past ten years had made any attempt to leave. Forced confinement had changed into a house party as the residents had regained their true forms.

Belle smiled quietly to herself as she became cognizant of her step's echo. Now the feeling of emptiness in the castle derived from the lack of furniture, of all things! But this emptiness was not so desolate, not with the joyful hum of voices in the air at almost all hours. Her darling Adam – her Beast – had explained that the witch arrived in his childhood, when the castle had been newly built and empty, and Adam had been more interested in buying playthings and throwing parties than furnishing his home. Recently, the prince had suggested sardonically that the witch's curse on the rest of the inhabitants had perhaps been a blessing in disguise once he realized how few chairs he now possessed.

Belle's humming faded away as she stopped, listening. Footsteps? She had not expected to encounter anyone this early in the day, she was fairly certain Adam would not be awake for several hours more, her darling spoiled prince. Who did she hear there, at the end of the hall?

Belle set her shoulders and strode forward. Not a month before she had married Adam, she was mistress of this house, she would go greet whoever was there if they were friend, or send them forthwith from the castle if they were….foe? She chided her imagination for being foolish and fanciful as a shiver went through her body, and she marched forward more resolutely than before.

There, the last door, there was a light shining from it. Belle approached and looked within, prepared to enter with a greeting, but the words died on her lips. There was a man there, one she did not recognize. He was short, stouter than Cogsworth, greyer, with thick lips and dark circles under his deep-set eyes. She doubted he was noble, but he dressed as a man accustomed to living at court, not at a country chateau. He carried himself very proudly, even as he leaned over a desk, shuffling papers, trimming a quill. He moved with a singular sense of purpose, and Belle decided he absolutely had to be a newcomer to the castle; his was not a personality she would have overlooked even had she known him first as furniture.

Belle hesitated in the doorway too long, the stranger looked up. His eyes narrowed, big, bushy brows coming down in a dark scowl. He turned back to his work, apparently having no intention of speaking. Belle longed to flee, but she felt good manners compelled her to stay.

"Bonjour," she said, timid as a field mouse, then continued more strongly when he made no reaction, "I'm afraid I have not met you before, what is your name?" Still no reaction. What was she going to have to do to get him to speak? "My name is Belle and –"

"I know who you are, girl." His voice was high, nasal, and grating. Belle was stunned into silence at his tone, his address of her, his continued refusal to look up at her. What had she done to cause him to be so hostile?

"Well, sir," she continued after she had collected herself, "I'm afraid I do not know who you are, I don't believe I have ever met you before –"

"Indeed no, you haven't," he replied, now writing what appeared to be a letter. She thought she saw his dark eyes flicker up to her, and he heaved an audible sigh, "I shall give some explanation of myself presently as you seem to require one before leaving me to my work," he said as he scribbled, "You may address me as Monsieur Chesney; my carriage arrived just last night and I have been working ever since, once I saw the mad type of housekeeping that has been going on these past ten years. I am a servant of Prince Adam's father, Prince Jacques de Scorailles, le Duc de Fontanges. We had heard nothing for years regarding Prince Adam, and were most surprised to receive a report from the prince's majordomo – Cogsworth I believe? – after such a long silence. I was sent to investigate recent events and make sure all was in order. I find it is most terribly out of order so if you would take yourself away so I may continue my work I'd be much obliged."

This explanation was given in such sarcastic tones that Belle lost her nerve, hurriedly wished him luck with his duties, and fled the scene.

Her feet took her to the kitchens, where she knew Ms. Potts would now be gathering the kitchen staff to plan the meals for the day. The staff were slowly commencing their morning routine as Belle entered, plucking, kneading, mixing, cleaning. Some were still too groggy to look up, others wished her good morning cheerfully. When Belle inquired after Ms. Potts, she was directed to the larder. There indeed was the good old woman, taking note of the meats and dairy.

"Oh good morning Belle dear," she said kindly, albeit absentmindedly as she examined some poultry hanging from a hook in the ceiling, "I honestly haven't the faintest idea how we are going to continue to feed all these people! I've sent out for more meats and flour, but the master hasn't collected from his tenants in so long… Why, when Cogsworth tried to get the dues they all thought he was trying to rob them!"

"I'm sure you'll manage," Belle replied with a smile, "Is there anything I can do to help you, Ms. Potts?"

"Oh of course not dear, you're the lady of the castle now! We can't have you slaving away down here!" Ms. Potts scoffed, but with a good-humored grin on her face.

"Ms. Potts, I've told you time and again that I wish to be put to use!" Belle insisted, "I was not raised a lady who wouldn't lift her finger for a thing, and I refuse to live so now!"

It was an argument they'd had before, and Ms. Potts laughed as she finally conceded, "Come along then, we shall make some pastries together. I'm afraid I don't quite trust the other staff to do it all themselves yet, they've been too long without fingers!"

They worked in the pantry, and as they worked Belle grew calmer in regards to her earlier encounter with Mr. Chesney. She glanced over at Ms. Potts, and when a pause came in the older woman's gossip, she chanced to broach the subject of their visitor.

"I met a man called Mr. Chesney this morning," Belle began, "Did you know he arrived last night?"

Ms. Pott's lips narrowed slightly, "Yes, I was aware. Mr. Chesney called for a servant to wake Cogsworth to discuss household matters, and then to wake me to bring refreshment as he hadn't eaten all day. Not that it bothered me, mind you, I'm always willing to bring a traveler a good hot meal after he's been on the road a while. But Mr. Chesney…. Well, he's always been very high-handed, very high-handed indeed."

"You knew him before the curse?" Belle asked.

"Oh yes dear, he was the one who hired the staff for the master. Gave me quite an interrogation too, as regards to my qualifications. The master's own mother was my mistress for years! And that man had the audacity to suggest perhaps a new housekeeper was needed... ah dearie me, doesn't make any difference now I suppose. Here I am and here I'll stay!"

"He said he was Adam's father's steward," Belle said slowly as she formed some dough, "And you were a servant of his mother's? Forgive me, I'm realizing I know next to nothing about his family, he never speaks of them…."

"Indeed," Ms. Potts agreed, her voice lowering, "We generally don't speak of them. I believe I'm not at all sure as to how the master will react when he hears Monsieur Chesney has arrived. They did not get along well before, and no one has had a chance to tell the master of Monsieur Chesney's arrival."

"Speaking of," Ms. Potts continued in a lighter tone, as she took away the tray of newly formed pastries, "perhaps you'd better go see if our lay-about master would be interested in breaking his fast before noon!"

Belle was glad to go to her husband, but thoughts of Mr. Chesney still weighed on her. Why had he not come sooner? There had been little communication between the castle and the outside world during the past ten years; surely Adam's father must have worried when he stopped receiving word of his son?

But she would worry about that later. She had gained the West Wing and Adam's door was straight before her. Without even noticing it, she was smiling again. Dear, dear Adam, he was surely still asleep though the sun had fully risen! The servants hated to disturb him, the beast still roared in him when he was awakened, but Belle had no fear. She held supreme confidence in his love for her.

She slipped silently inside the room, pausing a moment to let her eyes adjust to the darkness. She could make out the bed, the figure lying on his side upon it, half-concealed by the drapes. Slowly Belle made her way to the long line of tall windows, and one by one drew back the curtains. There was a lethargic shuffle from the bed, and she grinned as her husband turned his back to the light. She giggled a bit as she pulled back the drapes from the bed and Adam buried his face in his pillow.

"The morning is here, whether you wish it or not," she informed him. The reply was a rumbling growl. Belle climbed beside him, bringing her face close to his ear, "The day has come my dearest, and we must arise with it."

A hand came up to grip her wrist and Belle gasped as she was rolled back and pinned to the bed by Adam's body.

"Oh we must, must we?" he asked, his voice deep against her neck. Belle felt her face color as she felt him stretched against her, _that part_ hard between her legs. She knew sometimes he woke in the morning…like this, but she was still getting used to this aspect of married life.

"Adam, there's too much light," she mumbled, embarrassed. Before her marriage, she had believed that a couple's joining should be as dark and secretive as the talk that always surrounded the act. This belief was still ingrained in her, although Adam seemed to have no such compunctions.

"There is just the right amount of light," Adam replied, placing kisses alternately gentle and rough against her neck and collarbone, "My wife is beautiful, and I wish to see her. Besides," he continued, as a hand began reaching up under her skirts, "Was it not you who let the light into the room?"

"I did not know you were planning this ambush." Her retort came out a gasp as his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh. She felt him grin between her breasts.

"Surprise is the whole purpose of an ambush, don't you think?"

She had to laugh herself at that, but stopped Adam's hand when it would have journeyed higher. "Forgive me, my love, but I don't think I can after…."

She could not bring herself to finish "last night," not when Adam was suddenly looking at her with such smugness.

"Oh move!" she said a little grumpily, giving him a shove. He only laughed and rolled over onto his back, the bedclothes tangling about his legs. Belle stood and smoothed her dress, caught between looking and not looking at her husband's bare chest. He refused to wear anything to bed, and while she need not feel embarrassed in the dark night, she felt both shy and insatiably curious now that the daylight shone upon his skin. He was so beautiful. The muscles of an active life moved beneath smooth skin, and his chestnut hair caught the morning light with a hint of flame. And his eyes….she had seen so many cold blue eyes, but his were warm.

"If you keep looking at me like that," he said in a warning tone, "I will come over there, bring you back to this bed, and not let you leave until it is dark again."

"Then I suppose I should go get Lumière to see that you are dressed," Belle replied saucily, and flounced away to call the manservant, as well as order their breakfast to be brought up.

"In any case you must get up," Belle continued once a servant had gone to get Lumière and their breakfast, "You have a visitor and it is your duty as a host to speak with him soon."

"A visitor?" Adam repeated, yawning and stretching. Belle thought he acted just like a giant kitty cat sometimes….

"Yes, he arrived just last night," Belle told him, sitting at the dressing table to see if his…ambush…had done any damage to her hair, "A Monsieur Chensey, I met him this morning. He is a steward of your father's I believe?"

There was no reply from behind her, and when Belle glanced back in the mirror she wondered if perhaps she should have let someone else tell Adam of his new guest. Her husband's face was no longer relaxed, but it was not building to one of his rages. He could have been a corpse for all the expression his face showed.

"Adam?" Belle asked hesitantly, and when he didn't answer she asked more loudly, "Adam, are you alright?"

Adam sat up in the bed and swung his legs over the side, reaching a hand out to her while still that stone expression remained on his face. She went to him, and he gently directed her to sit beside him as he held her hand.

"I admit I didn't think this would happen," he stated after a while, "I did not think my father would show any more interest in me now than he did over the past ten years. But it seems he has deigned to take me under his notice. I'm afraid my dearest, sweetest wife, this means he will know you too."

"That is bad?" Belle asked hesitantly, "Adam, I don't know any of your family."

"And there's a reason for that," Adam snapped. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, "They never paid the slightest attention to me before, and I was content in that. Yet now my father's steward is here, and I fear what it will mean for us."

"For us?" Belle prompted, completely lost. Ms. Potts had not been pleased at the arrival of the visitor, but Adam behaved as though his world was falling apart…

It seemed she would not get an answer this morning. There was a knock and Lumière called from outside in the hall. Belle removed herself to the dressing table again as Lumière, with his usual charm and taste, managed to outfit Adam fashionably from the various outmoded clothes that had been unworn for the past decade. Their breakfast arrived soon after, brought in by Ms. Potts, followed by the portly Cogsworth, whose face was shining with the importance of the list of household expenses which he held in his hand, and prepared to go over every item with Adam and Belle.

Throughout the meal, Belle thought maybe Adam lost some of his pallor, he was smiling and laughing, but did that twinkle appear in his eye at any time throughout the meal? Yes, there, a glimpse of her favorite star, trapped in his eye. Belle herself felt more secure. Whatever challenge Mr. Chesney had brought with him, they would face and deal with as partners. This was their family, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much to those who reviewed the last chapter! You really made my day! I love reviews, and they help me bring the best possible story to you guys, so please take a moment to give some brief feedback if you have time! Enjoy the new chapter ~~~**

* * *

Adam stood outside the study, tapping his fingers against the side of his thigh pensively. He'd hoped never to see Mr. Chesney again, not after the last time they'd met. It was a barely-remembered event; he supposed he had been only about five years old. He had already grown spoiled and willful – Prince Jacques had ordered the servants to attend to his every whim, just so he father would never be called to deal with his youngest son. Despite this, even Adam had been complacent under Mr. Chesney's icy glare. Cogsworth had stuttered under that gaze as he attempted to go over the household accounts with the steward, the others had been quiet and fearful. When Mr. Chesney had left, the chateau had returned to normal. But Adam could not forget the childhood terror that man had inflicted.

And here he was again.

Adam took a deep breath and entered the study. Mr. Chesney's eyes flickered up for just a moment before returning to the papers he was currently examining.

"Sit."

Adam wanted to refuse, to tell this man that he did not have the authority to order a prince. He, Adam, was an adult, a man, a prince, and he demanded respect.

But he sat.

And he remained sitting, silent, as Mr. Chesney finished perusing his papers, slowly sat them down, refilled his ink pot, and finally leaned back in his chair.

"Well?"

Adam felt his jaw clench, the Beast within stirred in annoyance, "Well…what?"

"What account do you have to give for yourself and the state of matters here?" Mr. Chesney asked with the sternness of a schoolmaster.

"I do not see that I have to give any account of myself to you," Adam retorted, crossing his arms and glaring across the desk. Mr. Chesney's eyes flashed.

"I am your father's steward, boy," he said slowly, "And you live here in your father's chateau because of his generosity. I think you have every obligation to give an account of affairs to me."

"Do my brothers give accounts of their affairs to you?" Adam snapped. The corners of Mr. Chesney's mouth turned down even further.

"They are men grown with their own estates and privileges," he answered tightly, "They are an asset to your father at court, where they act dutifully and obediently. You are a spoiled brat who has done nothing to keep up this grand property which your father entrusted to you, so again, what account do you have to give?"

"The castle has not fallen down," Adam spat, the Beast beginning to growl and pace in his chest, "The peasants are content, as are the lords and ladies as well as my staff. We have had no trouble nor any reason for you to come and intrude upon us."

"You have not collected dues from your tenants in ten years, previously to a month ago," Mr. Chesney growled, "The castle has not been furnished properly; I decided I would rather work the night away rather than sleep in one of the hastily contrived beds your servants have created for your guests! Speaking of those guests, how long have they been here? Quite a while, if I'm not mistaken. How much money do you intend to waste away with this house party you felt you had need of?"

"It was not my fault." Adam had meant to roar, but his voice came out closer to a whisper. The Beast cowered, ashamed. It was his fault. He had turned the beggar woman away, he had cursed the castle. He had not learned from his mistake sooner, the inhabitants had been trapped a decade before he was able to love and be loved in return. Because of this he knew they now feared venturing into the outside world. What had changed out there? They feared new struggles, a world which they had not seen in ten years. Who was he to force them away, when they had so much fear? When it was all his fault?

"Excuse me?" Mr. Chesney asked with a darker glare.

"Why was no one sent sooner?" Adam snapped back, trying to reawaken the Beast and steal some of his courage, "My father felt no need to investigate when his son hadn't been heard from in years?"

"We'd heard there was plague in the region," Mr. Chesney answered coolly, "There were tales of an old woman traveling, spreading it. We dared not risk infection by sending someone. When we received no further word from Cogsworth, we assumed the plague had wiped out the castle, or you too had some intelligence and did not want to risk infection by sending out a messenger. So we waited. And you aren't dead, are you? You're perfectly well, and as much a disappointment to your father as ever before."

"There _was_ an old woman," Adam said boldly, "But she did not come carrying plague. She was a witch, and she cursed this castle. We were cursed all these years, and the curse was just recently lifted. We survived a witch's curse and broke it without your help, is that not enough?"

"Did you burn the witch?"

"What?"

"It is believed by some," Mr. Chesney stated, "That your very grandmother may have been poisoned. You perhaps have heard of the _Affaire des Poisons_? Your father's mother died in this time, and it is known that she faced hostility for her relationship with the king from his other mistresses, including the whore Montespan. There were indeed rumors that Montespan secured the services of _La Voisin_, a poisoner, an abortionist, a witch. Do you know what happened to that witch? She was burned, and perhaps if she had been burned sooner, your grandmother might have lived and been able to more fully secure your father's future. So tell me, boy, did you think to burn the witch who came to this castle?"

"We had not the means to capture her," Adam protested, his face burning. No, there was nothing they could have done, if he had only taken pity on a poor beggar woman…

"Of course you didn't," Mr. Chesney said, "And thus you have languished here for ten years, having done nothing to bring your father pride. But no more, foolish boy."

"What do you mean?" Adam asked sharply.

"I mean," Mr. Chesney answered slowly, as if speaking to a simpleton, "Your father no longer trusts you out here, with no supervision. You need a firmer hand, and his arm does not stretch so far. You will come to court until you can prove yourself worthy of whatever position your father might find need to place you in."

Adam's heart sank as he jumped to his feet. This was exactly what he had feared. He father would take him away from the servants he trusted, the dependents who needed him, and would keep him the tightly controlled cage of court where there could be no friendship, only schemes.

"I can't go."

"You will go."

"No," Adam said, shaking his head, "Inform my father of what I've told you, inform him that now we are working to make up for the past ten years. And tell him….tell him that I am recently married and I have no wish to bring my family to court so soon."

Mr. Chesney's face took on an appearance as if he had tasted a lemon.

"Yes, we were informed of your marriage in the report we received from Cogsworth. Your father wishes to speak with you about this, of course. But he still commands you come to court. Leave the woman here, we do not know what manner of threat the commoner has made to bind you to her, but your father is certain that it can be got over and settled. He shall find you a more suitable bride once you've done your duty at court."

"I did not marry her to avert some threat," Adam said tightly, struggling to keep his voice under control as the Beast roared at the insult to Belle, "I married her because I love her, and I'll damn any man who tries to take her from me."

Mr. Chesney stared at him for several minutes more, his fingers arched beneath his chin, his expression cold and unchanging.

"Very well then," he finally said, taking a blank paper and his quill, commencing another letter, "Bring her with you to court, I shall inform your father. I do urge you to reconsider; this girl will be completely out of place. But I shall say no more on it. I will leave for Paris in the morning; your father expects to see you at Versailles within a month. Until then good-bye – you need not see me off."

Adam was a prince; he would not be dismissed so casually! But he left the study without another word. The threat he feared had arrived. He must go to court, he must take Belle with him, and his father would try to separate them.

He glanced out one of the tall windows he passed, and stopped for a second at the next one. There was Belle, cantering Phillipe around the lawn, holding Chip in front of her on the saddle. They were both smiling, laughing as the big shaggy dog yapped beside the large horse. Adam sighed and walked on, wondering how he was going to break the news to Belle, to the servants, to the lords and ladies who had inhabited the castle for years.

Once he'd gained the west wing, Adam fell into his chair in his apartment, his brow furrowing. His mood was growing darker, and he knew if he only went to Belle, she would make him feel better. But she preferred to spend her afternoons in the library, and thither he was sure she would retreat once she had exercised Phillipe. It was such a long walk to the library, and he was feeling less and less like seeing anyone.

There was a brisk knock at his door, and Cogsworth entered, followed by Lumière, carrying a silver tea set from which warm smells wafted.

"_Madame_ asked us to bring you some refreshments," Lumière explained as he set the tray down on a small table near Adam's chair, "She was afraid you'd be tired after your _rendez-vous avec_ Monsieur Chesney."

"'Tired,' yes," Adam repeated, a little sarcastically.

"What news did he have to give you?" Cogsworth asked nervously, "I did try to convince him to confide in me, Master, but he would not have it. I daresay I felt as though he thought I didn't deserve his time, and here I have faithfully served for over seventeen years –"

"Ah, you see Cogsworth," Lumière began with a twinkle in his eye, "You are but a very _petit_ man, he was looking for the big man in charge!"

Cogsworth bristled, "I am taller than him, thank you very much! And may I add, practically an Athenian wrestler compared to the way he's let himself go over the years –"

Lumière laughed loudly, "Oh Cogsworth, _mon ami_, you bring such joy to _ma vie_."

"My father demands I go to Paris," Adam said blankly. The two immediately stopped their bickering and became very still, staring at their master warily. Cogsworth broke the silence.

"And…Belle?" he asked quietly.

"I will not be parted from her," Adam said with determination, "But I know once at the capital, my father will do all in his power to separate her from me. Still, I will have her accompany me."

"But Master!" Lumière protested, "She will be eaten alive! She is but a humble country girl; she will hate the schemes and treacheries of court!"

"Do you think I don't know that!?" Adam roared. He tried to calm himself as he saw Cogsworth and Lumière quail. He continued in a constrained voice, "She will be surrounded by false friends and open enemies, my father among them. She, always so open and honest, will be surrounded by the worst snakes and vultures known to this world. But I dare not leave her behind, and I do not wish to."

"But she would be perfectly safe here!" Cogsworth protested.

"No, she wouldn't," Adam said darkly, holding up his teacup, "Lumière, Cogsworth, has there been any laxness in the polishing of the silver?"

They both gasped as they looked into his cup. Below the waterline, the silver had tarnished.

"Poison," Lumière hissed, quickly taking the cup away from Adam.

"But very sloppily done," Cogsworth added in a scientific tone, "Many poisons don't react to silver, whoever is responsible for this was not a habitual poisoner, I'll warrant you."

"Yes," Adam said slowly, "Who indeed did this?"

Cogsworth and Lumière looked at each other.

"Master," Lumière began, "You don't suppose –"

"Of course I suppose!" Adam roared, "It was Chesney, or one of his men. Of course no one would have noticed them do it, I have no proof, but they are the only ones who had the motivation to do so. Preparing me early for the perils of Paris, I don't doubt. Now, if you'll excuse me gentlemen," he said as he snatched a silver teaspoon from the tray, "I am going to find my wife, and make sure that they have not tried the same trick with her."

The two followed him as he stormed from the west wing, but he ignored the bickering that immediately commenced. He did not care if Lumière should have noticed something wrong with the tea, or if Cogsworth should have taken note of any shifty behavior among Mr. Chesney's men. He needed his wife, the Beast needed to know his mate was safe.

He ignored Belle's look of surprise as the three of them broke into the library. Ms. Potts looked up from where she had just been pouring the tea, and her eyes too widened.

"Adam, what's the matter?" Belle asked, holding out her hand as he approached. He took it, and sat beside her on the settee.

"Just some funny business going on with the tea today love, do not worry about it," he answered, dipping the spoon into her porcelain teacup. He set the spoon upon the tray and sat back, "Do not drink for a moment, love, and let's see how it goes."

Ms. Potts' eyes widened further as she understood, but Belle's brow furrowed. How he wished she would never have to worry about such things.

"My tea was a bit off dear, and this is a way to check," he lied quickly, shooting Lumière, Cogsworth, and Ms. Potts warning glances, "I saw you ride Phillipe this afternoon, did you have a good time?"

"Yes, it was quite nice," Belle answered, still looking at him strangely, "The snow has almost melted completely away; hopefully it will not freeze again and turn the lawn to ice."

"Indeed, it is quite time for spring," Adam commented. He saw Belle hesitate, and waited for her to speak.

"How was your meeting with Monsieur Chesney?" she finally asked. Adam sighed, although he had known she would ask that question.

"You may leave us," he told the others, and they quickly filed out the door. Once alone, he turned to Belle, and regretted not giving her some sort of immediate answer, for now she began to look worried.

"Do not fret, my sweet," he said with a smile, telling himself that he need not scare her now with tales of the hostilities they would face in Paris, "He asked me to give an account of the past ten years, which I did to my best ability. It…annoyed…me to do so, but this is my father's castle, and some explanation was due to him."

"Your father's castle?" Belle asked, looking around as if she had not seen the place before.

"Yes," Adam replied, trying to keep his voice pleasant through clenched teeth, "My father has never been fond of me, so when I was quite young he sent me here, and here I have stayed."

Belle gave him that look that made him feel as though she could read him as easily as any of her books.

"I did not know that about your father," she said slowly. Adam opened his mouth to explain, but found he could not, and closed it again.

"In any case," he continued hurriedly, "It seems my long confine here has ended. Although I hate to quit the place and disrupt your life again, my darling, I'm afraid my father has summoned us to Paris, so to Paris we must go."

He had meant to sound cheerful; Belle was an adventurous soul, and she would undoubtedly enjoy the sights the journey would have to offer. However, as he spoke, the bitterness in his voice grew, and Belle looked wary rather than excited.

"Must we go?" she asked timidly, "I don't want to be any trouble, I don't want to make your father angry," she explained quickly, "It's just…would we have to leave everyone else here?"

"No, of course not," Adam assured her, "Lumière will come with me, if you wish we can also bring Ms. Potts and Madame Armoire. I fear Cogsworth will have to remain here to manage the castle and the tenants, but we will need to bring a few others to see to our needs in the capital…"

His voice slowly faded away as he noticed Belle no longer looked wary, but was gazing off with a hint of excitement in her eyes.

"The capital," she repeated with a sigh, "I've read so much about it, but I never thought I would go! When do we leave?"

"My father expects us in four weeks' time," Adam told her, "The journey itself will be just over a fortnight, if we keep a good pace. So it seems I shall give you a week to prepare."

"A week! I have so much to do, I must –" she broke off, looking down at the table, then back up at Adam, "Do you think I may have my tea now?"

He glanced at the spoon; no change in color.

"Of course, my love," he told her easily, but as she drank and chatted about the approaching journey, he couldn't help but feel a darkness descend upon his heart. The Beast within him had calmed, but it would not rest.


	4. Chapter 4

The next week passed in a blur for Belle. So much activity, so much excitement! She hardly knew which way to turn. Her father and she had moved many times in her youth, but they had always just thrown whatever would fit in a wagon behind Phillipe.

Apparently relocating to the palace of Versailles was a completely different story, one unlike anything she had ever encountered before. Belle tried to help where she could, but the servants laughed and shooed her off.

"Don't put yourself to any trouble, dear," Ms. Potts told her with a chuckle, "We know what needs to be brought and how best to pack it all. Go along now, Madame Armoire almost certainly has something new for you!"

Indeed, it seemed every time Belle ran into Madame Armoire the robust lady had a new dress or hat that needed another fitting. Belle found that it was very easy to grow tired of dresses. Each one Madame Armoire squeezed her into was more beautiful, more stylish than the last, but hours of standing and being poked by pins quickly dampened their attraction.

"I do not need another dress," Belle told Madam Armoire firmly as the day of their departure grew close.

"Nonsense my child! You need something much finer than these scraps, I assure you every young lady at court will be trying to outdo each other and you must not fall behind!"

"There is no reason for me to stay ahead," Belle retorted, a little heatedly, "I'm not going to court to find a husband, I already have one. And I daresay he likes me just fine in scraps!"

Madame Armoire only shook her head, her mouth grim, and bustled along her way.

Belle didn't truly mind the dresses and the fittings, it was only that she felt an accumulation of stress building up. Part of it was indeed the dresses. Part of it was her frustration at her inability to help with the frenzy of packing. If she was completely honest with herself, part of it was her own nerves; she was a little scared of going to court. But most of it was Adam.

She'd noticed he'd relapsed into his dark broodings, something she hadn't seen since his transformation. She'd tried to gently pull him out, with soft words and funny stories, and for a moment she thought she had him diverted. But her words did not seem to hold him for long.

Neither was he continuously silent and morose. His short temper sparked faster now, and he'd begun to be more possessive of Belle. She was not sure if she liked that. He would randomly rush into whatever room she happened to occupy, and stand staring for a moment before stomping back out. At night he clutched her close to him, but he had not made love to her since he'd heard of Mr. Chesney's arrival. She definitely did not like that!

The day of their departure came too quickly. The servants who were to be left behind bid farewell tearfully. Cogsworth tried pompously and unsuccessfully to comfort them. His eyes too filled as he watched the train of carriages and carts leave the grounds.

About an hour or two into their journey, Belle began to lose her nervousness and become excited for the adventure ahead of her. She had never been to Paris! Or any other great city, really. Yes, court was located at the palace of Versailles some distance from the city, but she dearly hoped she'd be able to thoroughly explore Paris itself one day.

She tied up the curtains of the carriage, wanting to see every change of landscape as their journey progressed. Adam, sitting in a corner with his arms crossed, groaned and turned away from the light.

"Come over here, Adam," Belle said, unwilling to let him ruin her mood, "Come see these flowers, I don't think I've seen that kind before. And over there! A small herd of deer! I had no idea they'd let us get so close!"

"I'm glad you are enjoying the journey," Adam said teasingly, that small smiled she had worked so hard for over the past week finally making an appearance, "We're but at the beginning of our two-week journey. I hope you brought a book."

"Oh I brought several!" Belle exclaimed, not sure if he was poking fun at her. His answering laugh assured her that he was, but she didn't mind. So long as he was happy in this moment.

"Well, what are _you_ going to do?" she asked him. He grinned at her.

"I'm going to listen to my beautiful wife read to me."

"For two whole weeks!? I'll have no voice if I tried that!"

Adam smiled again and gestured for her to sit next to him. She did so, and was relieved when he merely slung his arm around her, rather than gripping her tightly to him.

"I could spend a great deal of time sleeping," he mused, "When sitting becomes onerous I can ride outside – I assume as we brought Phillipe you had a similar idea? – and if you've brought good books I could read with you."

That made Belle smile. Her dear Adam, she would turn him into a scholar yet! He lacked the same reverence for books that she possessed, and by "good books" she was certain he meant ones with plenty of illustrations, but she was hoped that with time and patience he would become as avid a reader as she was.

"I'm going to worry about Papa," Belle said, "Ms. Potts isn't going to be there to take care of him, neither am I. What if one of his machines goes horribly wrong?"

"Don't worry about it, my darling," Adam told her as he nuzzled the top of her head, "He has Cogsworth, after all, and many servants remain there. They will just have to learn to be a bit careful."

"Adam?" Belle began, wondering if his good mood would fade if she began asking personal questions, "Will we meet people at Versailles? Will we meet your father?"

A cloud passed over his face and he stiffly nodded.

"My father, and my brothers."

Belle's eyes widened, "Brothers? I did not know you had siblings! Why weren't they, or your father for that matter, invited to the wedding?"

"Perhaps they would not want to journey all that way in the snow," Adam answered quietly and unconvincingly.

"It's not that rough a journey to see one's family," Belle pushed. How could she still know so little about his life? "What are your brothers like?"

"My brothers all take after my father," Adam said shortly, "My oldest brother is Léandre. He is seventeen years older than me, and glories in his strength. The next brother is Persée, a year younger than Léandre, and last I saw him he thought he was quite a clever person. Then the last is Trae, who is nine years older than I."

"And what is he like?" Belle asked. Adam's mouth thinned and his eyes grew hard.

"A tormentor, monster. I've only met my brothers once, when I was a small lad. Léandre and Persée did not have any desire to play with a small child, and their cool hatred was clear. Trae was not yet old enough to have learned restraint, and his hatred was more…visible."

"Hatred?"

"I think I should like to ride now," Adam said instead of answering. He tapped on the ceiling of the carriage and waited for it to come to a halt, "Find yourself one of your best books my sweet, I'll be back soon and I'd love to hear you read something."

"Anything you wish my love…."Belle answered, her voiced fading as Adam leapt from the carriage, off to find a horse to ride. She wondered briefly if she should go out too, find Phillipe, ride alongside her husband. She decided against it. He wanted to be alone now. He wanted to be alone so much recently…. She had better stop worrying about it, they'd only been married a month and she couldn't be already worried about his feelings for her fading! It was just the stress of the journey, she was certain his love remained true.

After a moment, Ms. Pots and Madame Armoire entered the carriage, and the three women exchanged cheerful greetings. Ms. Potts tapped the ceiling and the carriage rocked as it continued on its journey.

"What a lovely day we have to start our travels," Ms. Potts began, "Not a cloud in the sky, and really quite warm for this time of year!"

"Oh you're quite right Ms. Potts, but I would far rather be this journey be over quickly," Madame Armoire responded, "The sights we shall see! The dresses that shall be worn! Oh I have been looking forward to the moment for ten years!"

"Belle, dear," Ms. Potts said cautiously, and Belle turned around from where she had been straining to see out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of her husband.

"Yes, Ms. Potts?"

"You seem a little gloomy, dear," Ms. Potts commented, as she gathered her knitting from somewhere about her person, "And here we are having such a lovely time! Whatever is the matter, child?"

"Nothing it's just…" Belle tried to brush it off, but gave up the effort. These women were her closest female companions – worry was eating her up and she had to talk to someone.

"Well, Adam has been so different in the past week. Surely you've noticed how moody he's become? He hardly eats, rarely sleeps, and we…we have not been _close_ in this time," she finished quickly. Ms. Potts and Madame Armoire looked at each other, than down at their laps. Belle leaned forward.

"You two know something, don't you?" she asked in a conspiratorial whisper. She meant to be lighthearted, but the look Ms. Potts gave her was anything but.

"I am sorry dear," she answered, "I wish I could say…but I really think this is something Adam needs to explain to you himself."

"I've tried to ask him!" Belle protested, "Just now, when he left to ride, it was because I was trying to find out what was wrong. How can I help him if neither you nor he will tell me what is wrong?"

"Did he say anything before he left the carriage?" Madame Armoire asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Belle answered instantly, "He told me a little about his brothers and said they all hate him. I asked why and he did not respond. He left almost immediately after."

"Well, dear," Ms. Potts began, a rather strained look on her face, "I believe when the time is right, and he feels ready, he will be glad to unburden himself to you –"

"Oh Ms. Potts, really," Madame Armoire interjected. Belle was surprised to see a look close to anger in her face, "The poor girl ought to know what she's heading into, and I doubt our lovely prince will 'feel ready' before our journey is over."

"What is it?" Belle asked, feeling a little frightened, "What should I know?"

Madame Armoire huffed and looked at Ms. Potts, who in turn looked at her knitting, a sad cloud coming down over her face.

"Before I was the housekeeper, I was the master's nurse, when he was a very small boy," Ms. Potts said quietly, "Before that, I was his mother's maid. I had served her since her marriage to Prince Jacques, long ago. Duchess Alainore. She was a dear thing, very small, very quiet, and oh so pretty. The rest of her sons have their father's green eyes and dark hair, but Adam gets his coloring entirely from his mother."

Ms. Potts was so quiet, so subdued compared to her usual jolly self, Belle felt a heaviness settle around her own heart.

"What happened to the duchess?" Belle asked softly. Ms. Potts tried to smile, tried to bring back her usual mood, but her eyes remained downcast.

"She was very small, as I said, she was weak in body, though a kinder, gentler lady I have never met. Her first two sons were born very quickly, one a year. It took a toll on her, the physician said, and he discouraged any further children. And for a time, there weren't any. My lady seemed to recover, though she did not become strong again. She could walk with her two boys – she delighted in them and they adored her. Then a plague swept through the capital, and although she and her family escaped unharmed, she feared for the future of the family. She had another child, a son, despite the physician's warnings. Her husband, Prince Jacques, feared for her greatly; his love for her was visible to any who saw them together. He worried for her health, and he knew how much she disliked life at court. He began construction on a castle in the country, and promised she would live there once it was finished, never to return to court again."

Ms. Potts took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She remained like that several minutes, and Belle did not dare disturb her.

"The castle had just been finished when she found out she was with child again," Ms. Potts continued, "She remained at the capital, as the physician feared the stress of travel would harm both her and the baby. She was so weak already…. It was finally too much for her. She brought our master into the world, gave him his name, and passed away within the hour."

The carriage was quiet for some time after that. _How could I not have known?_ Belle asked herself. She felt a wave of sorrow for her husband. She knew what it was, to have never known a mother. Her own had died when she was very small. But she had told Adam that. Why would he not let her into his confidence?

"There you have it," Madame Armoire concluded softly, "The poor Prince Jacques, he never recovered from his wife's death. His sons never recovered from the loss of their mother."

"It's no excuse," Ms. Potts snapped forcefully. Responding to Belle's look of surprise, she continued, "They blame the dear master, you see, most wrongfully so. Babies are born into this world, all mothers know the risk. Prince Jacques could not accept it; he sent the master to live in the castle he had built for his wife, and has never seen his son since. The three eldest came to visit just once, before the curse. They were surveying their father's lands, learning how to manage it, watching over his tenants as he never left court again. They blamed the poor master for their mother's death."

"How could they?" Belle gasped, "If I had siblings, I'm sure we would look to each other for comfort. When I was young, I always wished I had an older sister or brother who could tell me about my mother; what she was like and everything. Such sorrow should bring a family together, not tear it apart!"

"And in most families I hope it does," Ms. Potts replied, "But not here. This is why the master has been so out of sorts. His brothers, his father, forget that he lost his mother too; though he never knew her, he cannot help but love her. And their words poison his thoughts; sometimes he blames himself as well. He is afraid, in pain, and I do not think this visit to the capital will do anything to assuage that."

Belle did not know what to say. After her own mother's death, her father had raised her with the gentlest love and care. Sometimes he told her of how much she reminded him of her mother. At such times there was sadness in his eyes, but no accusation, and when they talked and laughed together, when he hugged her and when he kissed her good-night, she had known that her father loved her above all else in the world.

No wonder Adam did not trust anyone, let so few people get close to him. No wonder he faced this journey with such trepidation. Belle pressed her face to the window again, and looked up and down the train of their entourage, trying to find her husband. Finally she spotted him, riding to the side of the main procession, riding with a grim look on his face and Lumière by his side.

"Will there be no one at court who will welcome us?" Belle asked timidly, letting the curtain fall.

"Oh don't you worry, dear," Ms. Potts said, although Belle detected some forced-cheer in the other woman's voice, "I'm sure there are many ladies your own age at residence in court – they will undoubtedly welcome you, you're such a sweet thing. And I'm sure the master will find his own peers. His cousin, Princess Louise Élizabeth, may take him under her wing. She is very close in age to Prince Jacques – who, my dear, is in fact her uncle – and they've always been close."

"Particularly since her mother, the Duchess Louise Françoise, and Prince Jacques waged such a feud against their sister, the Duchess Françoise Marie," Madame Armoire said conspiratorially, her eyes lighting with the gossip, "She married so far above them, there has always been a thick tide of jealousy running there. And I have heard that since the deaths of the Duchesses, the princesses have taken their mothers' places. Now, Princess Louise Élizabeth and Prince Jacques are feuding with the Duchess Françoise Marie's daughter, Duchess Charlotte Aglaé."

"Oh Madame Armoire, do not tell her that rubbish!" Ms. Potts protested.

"Maybe I should write all this down," Belle said, her head starting to whirl again. Adam was no country child like her, and he was no longer isolated in a castle. It seemed Adam had far more family than she had imagined!

"Oh don't you worry a moment about it, my dear," Ms. Potts told her, "It's a talent, really. Cogsworth may be able to date any suit of armor that comes his way, but I simply have a knack for remembering family lineages. And dear Madame Armoire here –" – giving her compatriot a stern look – "– has a knack for remembering gossip!"

"But you think….one of those ladies will welcome us?" Belle asked, almost desperate to find some hope when so far it seemed no good would come of their journey.

"Well, 'welcome' might be a bit of a strong word," Madame Armoire interjected, and would have continued except Ms. Potts interrupted her.

"That's probably enough about that," Ms. Potts interrupted, giving Madame Armoire a disapproving look. She turned back to Belle with a gentler smile on her face, "My dear, they will absolutely love you. How will they be able to help themselves?"

"Thank you, Ms. Potts," Belle replied, and set herself to look out the window again. She would rather watch the scenery rolling by than hear anymore of anything that awaited her at the castle. Neither woman had managed to calm her newly awakened doubts, which grew with a vengeance. Who was she, a simple country girl, to compare to the sophistication of the ladies of the French court?

Outside, Adam had challenged Lumière to a race, and was now galloping away. Belle watched his form grow smaller, and smaller.


	5. Chapter 5

**I have to admit, I was not fond of how last week's chapter turned out, and I'm afraid this one is also rather lacking… But bear with me, readers, I am hard at work on next week's chapter, which should be scandalous at the very least! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, and please, if you have a moment please drop just a tiny little review, they really help me and make my day! Sally forth, tally hoe, and we'll get on with the story soon enough!**

* * *

Adam rolled his neck as he slowed his horse to a walk. Their journey was half over, but each day dragged on longer than the one before.

The carriage was too small. As soon as they reached Paris, he would commission a larger one. He wanted to be able to stand straight, to lie stretched out fully, and maybe even do some pacing. That would be nice.

His horse was not fast enough. No matter how far he ran, no matter how fast, he could not escape his thoughts.

His thoughts were driving him crazy. He considered just taking Belle, running for the coast, sailing for the colonies, and leaving everything behind. Of course, every time he considered such actions he was reminded of his dependents – both those who had made the journey with them, and those back home. Belle would not leave without her father, and he could not leave without seeing his old friends safe.

Belle's thoughts were driving him crazy too. Ms. Potts had told him that she'd informed Belle of how matters stood in his family, and scolded him for not doing it himself. Could she really blame him? Ever since Belle had found out everything, she'd been just as worried as he was. At night he could tell she was getting as little sleep as he was, and during the days their conversations had greatly decreased.

And he should not have asked her to read aloud Caesar's _Gallic Wars_. Yes, this was his most terrible mistake. He had expected an exciting tale of warriors and battles, and yes there were battles by the dozens, but it was a very…..historical….book. And he found history boring. And sometimes Caesar did things that made his stomach churn…

"Master," Lumière said a little dryly as he rode up, "_Je pense que_ you have indisputably proven that I will never win a horse race against you. How many more times are we going to run back and forth_aujourd'hui_?"

"Until I'm tired of it," Adam replied sulkily. Lumière sighed and adjusted his coat.

"Master, if you would excuse the question, have things been well with you and the _madame_?"

"They're perfect," Adam snapped, and the Beast growled his own annoyance with the topic. Lumière regarded him thoughtfully.

"You know, Master," Lumière continued, "I have been in love before, I have cared deeply for a woman. It has been my experience that in times of stress, it is better to take comfort in each other than to remain apart."

"What do you know about how much we're apart?" Adam asked, looking at the other man with narrow eyes. With that carefully innocent look on his face, Lumière could only be talking about the drought of conjugal duties in the past couple weeks. But that was none of his business.

"Well, Master," Lumière said with a shrug and a cheeky grin, "I cannot help but think you would be a great deal happier if you would only –"

"Point taken, Lumière," Adam interrupted, waving the rest of his sentence away, "Let's race again, I bet I can reach that creek up there before you can."

* * *

When Adam reentered the carriage he was sweaty, dirty, and his heart was racing from his exertions. Belle was asleep, curled up on one of the benches, and Adam took a seat on the floor by her head instead of moving to the other bench. As the carriage began to move again, it jostled Belle, and her head slid to lie on Adam's shoulder.

He looked down at her, a tender smile on his lips. Even in sleep she was so beautiful. He wrapped one of the curls of her hair around his finger, admiring its silky smoothness. She murmured in her sleep and shifted slightly. Her hair fell away from Adam's hands. He let one of his fingers trace her lovely, expressive brow, fall down her warm, soft cheek, and gently come to rest at a the corner of her mouth.

The Beast stirred in him, and his heart began to beat so loudly, he was sure Belle would be wakened. She did not, but Adam could not help pressing his lips lightly to hers. She awoke then, slowly, looking up at him and around them, confused.

"Where…?" She sat up, righted herself, looked around again, then, "Oh, I must have fallen asleep…. How was your ride?"

"Refreshing," Adam answered briefly, then leaned in again to capture her lips.

_Mine_, the Beast growled, and Adam felt his hands go to her waist, then inch slowly up towards her breasts…

He felt her stiffen and pull away. He schooled his features carefully, keeping his face blank and he pulled back to see what manner of rejection she was about to put upon him. He scolded himself for his foolishness as he saw no rejection on her face, just a small, shy smile, and a little bit of surprise.

"What's brought this on?" she asked, and the Beast purred in contentment at the breathless quality of her voice.

"You are so beautiful, I cannot help myself," Adam said as he kissed her again. This time she did not pull away, and Adam held her all the more closer. He resolutely ignored his feelings of guilt. She deserved more of an explanation for his distance these past few weeks, but he did not want to talk about it. Lumière may be right about taking comfort in physical closeness, but Adam did not want to burden Belle with his dark thoughts.

He coaxed her mouth open, and held her head as he wanted it while he kissed her deeply. Her little fingers had clutched the lapels of his coat, and he groaned as she pulled him closer. His head dropped to kiss the tops of her breasts above the neckline of her dress as his hands searched for the hem of her dress, and on finding it, stroked slowly up her legs. Her breath was quickening, and he knew he should be taking this slower. However, he had been so long without her and the floodgates – as they were – had opened…

There was a knock on the carriage door as Adam considered just how many articles of clothing he'd have to remove to achieve his goal. The Beast snapped in the direction of the intruder, and Adam would have continued his quest except for Belle's hands, which had tugged at his coat so sweetly before, now were pushing him away.

"Adam, stop! It's Ms. Potts."

Adam tore himself away to the opposite bench, carefully folding his legs to hide his…arousal. The Beast snarled and snapped as Ms. Potts entered the carriage.

_It's no more than you deserve_, Adam told it, _We've ignored our wife for far too long_.

"We have reached Vierzon," Ms. Potts was saying, "Now, Lumière and I think this would be a good time for you two to make yourselves known to the people around here! Belle dear, of course you should stay in the carriage, it is much too cold outside. But Master, if you would ride through the down on your horse, I do believe they would be much impressed to see a prince!"

"I've already ridden today," Adam replied shortly. He was not going on this journey to satisfy a town of peasants.

"It'll just be a short ride, and think of all the joy you'll bring to these people!" Ms. Potts told him, that look firmly on her face that indicated she would not take no for an answer.

"Adam, you should do it!" Belle said excitedly, "The people of France deserve to see their nobles, the men who collect their taxes and lead their battles."

"I don't collect _these_ people's taxes," Adam protested, but he knew the battle was lost if Belle told him to do anything.

"Oh don't worry about that, Master, you nobles are all the same to them," Ms. Potts said cheerfully, "Now go get atop your horse again, we don't want to tarry here so long!"

Adam would ride through the town so the people could see him because Belle seemed to think it was a good idea, but he wasn't going to be happy about it. However, as he rode, seeing most of the peasants stop their daily routine to look up at him, he couldn't help but sit a little straighter. A few men called out "Good-day, milord," and he nodded his head or lifted his hand graciously to them. Some admired his clothes, his horse, some looked at him more warily.

_These aren't even my people_.

Adam began to think of his tenants back home. Had he ever seen them, ridden through one of their villages like this? He began to feel almost…responsible. Here there were a few men and women who had lifted their children to get a better view of the procession, and he had never stepped foot even in Belle's home village!

These thoughts stuck with him as they passed through the village, and he noticed farmer's children on the outside of town standing on fence rails to catch a glimpse. What kind of farms did these young ones work on? What kinds of farms did his own farmers work? That seemed like a question a lord should know. He had not been any kind of lord for his people before, now it seemed he would be totally absent. Of course, Cogsworth had plenty of experience for the job, but it was _his_, Adam's duty, not Cogsworth's, to oversee those lands.

Once they'd passed out of sight of the village, Ms. Potts hopped out of the carriage and allowed Adam to reenter it. He glanced at Belle, wondering if she would like to resume from earlier, but she had a pensive look on her face that worried him.

"Belle?" he prompted softly, reaching out to take one of her small hands resting on her lap, "What are you thinking about?"

"That village," she said simply, her brow furrowing, "Adam, did you not think it looked rather… Well it did not look very nice, did it?"

"Ah…." Adam wasn't sure how to respond. It looked like a peasant village, weren't they all more or less the same? "Indeed," he continued, with more gusto to hide his ignorance, "A terrible shame to let it go like….that…"

"I was thinking the same thing," Belle said emphatically, "Our village has been allowed to prosper, and everyone is happy! The people there, in Viezon, they were not happy. How could their lord have let things get so out of hand? Is he not responsible for the welfare of his people? Has he not seen the state of how they are living? There were not a few houses with great gaping holes in the roof, and it is still winter! What their lord must be doing…"

"Perhaps he has other responsibilities," Adam said stiffly, trying to remind himself that everything Belle said was right and was not an attack on his own practices of the last ten years. He knew he had a lot to answer for in that respect, but Belle's condemnation, though not directed at him, still hurt.

"Perhaps," Belle conceded doubtfully.

_She is right_, Adam told himself. He had lived in isolation, but in comfort. He might not have noticed the village being particularly poor, but he felt the disparity between his life and theirs keenly.

Adam lifted his arm and gently pulled Belled against his side. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and looking up at him with a smile.

"What shall we do for the rest of the day?" she asked, leaning to look out on of the windows.

"Anything but the _Gallic Wars_."

Adam had not meant to say it; he did not know how much Belle had been enjoying the book. He had told himself that he would say nothing until they had completed the book, so as not to diminish her own pleasure in it.

"Oh thank goodness!" Belle exclaimed, laughing, "Wasn't it so awful? I thought you were enjoying it, dear, or I would have thrown that book out the window days ago! Here, what would you like me to read instead?"

"I will leave the choice in your capable hands, my dear," Adam answered, his own smile growing at the sound of her laughter, "I don't think I should be trusted with this anymore."

"Well here, let's read this!" Belle said, drawing a battered book from her own smaller bag instead of the large crate of books she'd insisted on bringing, "_Tartuffe_, it's a comedy, and absolutely one of my favorites! I'm sure you'll love it!"

Adam was sure he would, and he watched with amusement as Belle took on the tone and manner of an old woman, "_Come, come, Flipotte, and let me get away…."_

Perhaps Lumière had been right. It had been a simple thing to tell Belle he had not enjoyed the _Gallic Wars_. Perhaps, in time, he would be able to tell her more about his family, answer the questions he knew she still had.

But not yet. Not while they were laughing together, and she was nestled so nicely under his arm. She would meet his family soon enough, and until then it was kinder to let her rest in blissful ignorance.


	6. Chapter 6

**Reviews are the stuff of life for poor authors like me! Thank you so much to those who have already reviewed! If you have a moment, please just drop a wee tiny comment so I know if this story is satisfying you.**

* * *

_Finally!_

Belle could hardly contain herself. They should have been there already! But a manservant had met them at the inn that morning, and told Adam that they were not to approach the palace until nightfall. They were not to wander about the town. They were to stay in the inn and leave directly from there and make their way as quickly as possible when the time came.

Oh those hours of waiting!

Adam had brooded in a corner, but nothing he could do could stopper Belle's enthusiasm! The end of their journey had been delayed, but oh if only it had been delayed a week ago, not now when the end was in sight! Belle had discovered a hatch to the roof, and she could see the palace faintly in the distance. It was so huge! Larger than any building she had ever seen before! Completely unlike any place she had ever been!

But now here they were!

It was only at Ms. Potts' urgings that Belle had agreed to stay in the carriage rather than ride Phillipe those last few miles. She would be able to see so much more if she was astride a horse! She could see nothing, absolutely nothing while riding in the carriage! Especially when it was so dark, and just a few windows were still lit in the grand structure.

"Wait….where are we going?" Belle asked as their carriage and baggage train skirted around the palace and started to move away from it.

"We won't be staying in the main palace," Adam told the ceiling, "There is not enough room for all the nobles there. We will be staying in an apartment in one of the outer buildings. See, up there, my father has sent a man to lead us to our new home."

_New home_. Belle did not like the sound of that. This was an amazing and beautiful place….but she already knew it would never be "home." She did not want it to be. She wanted to return to their own castle someday – _that _was home.

The carriage came to a stop in front of a smaller set of buildings. Adam and Belle were escorted into the building, followed closely by Lumière, Ms. Potts, and Madame Armoire. As they walked down the corridors, Belle crept a little closer to her husband. It was dark, strange, new – she almost felt as she had that first night in the enchanted castle.

The manservant Prince Jacques had sent left them at a pair of double doors. Lumière opened the doors for them, and Ms. Potts and Madame Armoire began to tut-tut as they all entered the first room of the suite.

"Oh how shameful," Ms. Potts was saying, "These rooms have not been used in so long… And no one bothered to air them out when they knew we were coming!"

"What is that smell?" Madame Armoire whispered back, "Good thing you thought to bring the mattresses, Ms. Potts, I daresay the ones we'll find here will be full of mold!"

"Master, Madame," Lumière said, taking a cover off a settee with a flourish, "You must be tired from your journey. Please rest here a moment while we set things to rights."

"I have been sitting for the past two weeks!" Belle protested, "Please allow me to help, I'm certain there's something I can do!"

"Oh you'd better not dear," Ms. Potts said, her face grave, "If another noble's servant sees you out there, carrying things…"

"Then I will do something in here," Belle said decisively, going to a window and swinging it open, "I will dust and clean in here. Adam, come help."

Adam gave the other three an amused look as he went to help his wife open the rest of the windows. Ms. Potts let them be, and led her battalion back downstairs to begin moving everything in.

Belle decided it was not so bad as Ms. Potts and Madame Armoire had been saying. Yes, it was a little old, smelled a little old, but she had never lived in a newly built house. And just the three rooms in this suite were larger than the cottage where she had lived with her father! There was the nice, large front room, large enough for entertaining a small group of friends, Belle thought. There was a smaller room, a dining room judging by the table which dominated the space, and then the bedchamber. Madame Armoire had been right there – the strangest smell in the apartments came from the old mattress and musty curtains around the bed.

"It is a good thing you are so full of energy, wife," Adam said wryly once the offending materials had been replaced, "It looks like we shall not be sleeping for some time yet."

"Well how could we? This is much too exciting!" Belle insisted, even as she dusted around the fireplace. Adam smiled at her enthusiasm, and reached out to gently take one of her hands. However, before he could, there was a measured tap on the door, and Lumière entered.

"Forgive me Master, Madame," he said looking a bit nervous, "but….a maidservant has come, Master, to take you to your father."

Adam's hand fell back to his side, and Belle gripped the mantelpiece hard at the look on his face. Why had his father called him _now_?

"Surely Prince Jacques will allow Adam some time to rest after his journey?" she asked meekly.

"I am afraid not, Madame," Lumière answered, also watching Adam warily.

"I do not need to rest," Adam said tightly, "I am perfectly capable of giving my greetings to my father."

With that, he marched out of the room.

"He's afraid his father will think he's weak," Belle stated. Lumière nodded.

"I did not think he would be summoned so soon," Lumière admitted, "I thought we'd be here months before we heard anything."

"But surely this is better," Belle said hopefully, looking at Lumière for reassurance, "If they can get their business done quickly, surely we will be able to return to the castle sooner?"

"We can only hope, Madame," Lumière replied, although he did not sound confident. Belle turned away, biting her lip as she finished with the fireplace.

"Will you go get Ms. Potts, please?" she asked, "I would like to make sure we have done enough to be able to sleep tonight before Adam returns."

"_Oui_ _Madame_, ah, she is here just now!"

Ms. Potts bustled in, no longer looking angry or disgusted at the state of the rooms, but wearing that contented look she held when there was a task at hand.

"Oh I suppose it'll clean up alright in the end," she said, unable to say the words grudgingly, "These really are a fine old set of rooms, such style! Nothing wrong with a few antiques, gives the place quite a homey charm!"

"Yes, homey if your grandfather was a king," Belle replied dryly. By removing layers of dust, she had been revealing intricately carved furniture, heavily gilded moldings, and riches beyond anything she had even seen. And she was to believe that these were chambers not fit for the son of a king's bastard – for Adam, and her.

"Oh dear, don't be overwhelmed by all this," Ms. Potts said soothingly, "You'll get very used to it, believe me. You're in a much different world now, so much higher in society! You'll learn to enjoy all the privileges that has to offer!"

"But I don't want any of it!" Belle protested, "A week ago we rode through a village so poor that they hardly had enough roof over their heads for the wintertime! And all that while all this was lying here, unused and covered in dust? It's horrible!"

Ms. Potts' face fell as she struggled for the right words to this unexpected outburst.

"Yes dear, yes you're very right. But that village – that's not yours or the Master's fault! And now you are in a position to fix such things! You have power now, dear Belle. You can give those people what they need, if you make the right friends here."

"A stranger's needs shouldn't be dependent on who decides they like or dislike me," Belle insisted. Ms. Potts sighed.

"Come dear, it is too late for all this heavy talk. Let's finish our cleaning, and we can all go to bed when the Master comes back."

* * *

Adam followed the maidservant dutifully as she led him through the corridors to his father's apartments. She let him in and closed the doors behind them.

There his father sat, at a great desk in a large chair, dominating the spacious room. Every step Adam took echoed as he approached, and he found himself glancing into the shadows of the room, looking for the dark shapes of his brothers. He sighed in relief when they were nowhere to be found.

The man at the desk did not look up, and Adam took the chance to observe him. Faded memories from his youngest childhood days grew perfectly into the man he saw now. The short, black hair had gone completely white, his expression even grimmer, the green eyes sharper in that pale, pale face. But he was no more a frail old man now than he had been seventeen years before, in the earliest memories Adam had of him. No, Prince Jacques sat straight in his chair, his movements were purposeful, determined. He lacked the typical gut of men at his age; instead, he seemed as active, athletic as he had ever been.

And still horribly, unbearably, severe.

Prince Jacques looked up in one sharp, abrupt movement. Adam caught his breath, feeling like a deer in a hunter's sights. Prince Jacques gave Adam as thorough an inspection as Adam had given him a moment before. Adam found he could not meet those eyes, and lowered his own eyes to the edge of the desk.

"Well?" the voice was strong, cold, and deep, "Have I heard correctly? Have you brought a peasant woman into the home of your ancestors? The home of the king of France?"

"I have brought my wife," Adam said through clenched teeth. The Beast bared its teeth, but did not dare roar.

"Your wife," Prince Jacques sneered, "Why were you always the one to cause me such pain? Do you know none of your brothers have taken a wife yet? Unlike you, they know where their duty lies. They have served me faithfully all their lives, and when the time comes they will trust my judgment and marry the woman_ I_ choose for them. And those women will be superior beings who will advance our family. Tell me, what advantages have you gained from your peasant woman? Not just for yourself, you selfish brat, but for our family?"

"Her name is Belle," Adam snapped, "And I did not marry her for any advantage; I married her because I love her!"

"What you love is a warm body in your bed," Prince Jacques hissed, "What do you know of love, you miserable wretch? Have I told you about the woman I loved? Need I remind you that you killed her with your very existence?"

"Why did you make me come here?" Adam demanded, trying to draw on the Beast for courage, "You could have left me at that castle, never seen me again. Why did you make me return when you hate to look at me?"

"Because even out of my sight you've begun to fill my days with torment," Prince Jacques countered, "Did you think your marriage was a private matter? You are a prince of France! Now the whole world will hear of your indiscretion, your marriage to a nobody! Foolish boy, do you not know of my struggles as I have tried to bring this family into its rightful place? I have not fought long and hard for this family's advancement just to see it washed away because you could not fuck a commoner girl without marrying her first!"

"That's not why I married her –" Adam began heatedly, but Prince Jacques interrupted.

"For god's sake, how many times must I repeat that she is a peasant? She would not have asked for a marriage if you had not offered! She would have taken a bag of gold coins back to her family, married the local blacksmith or what-have-you, and our family would be safe from the ridicule of our friends and allies!"

"You do not know her!" Adam yelled, the Beast finally roaring with fury, "She is kind and brilliant and unlike anyone I have every met –"

"Oh spare me!" Prince Jacques spat, standing and slamming his palms on the desk, "She. Is. Nothing."

"She is everything," Adam retorted, staring down Prince Jacques' fiery green glare.

"You will send her back to her village," Prince Jacques said, his voice now deadly calm, "You will take the wife I choose for you. In the meantime, you will keep to your apartments as much as possible, I do not want to see you, or hear that you've been seen. You will do whatever I tell you to do."

"No," Adam set his chin, "My marriage is legal and blessed in the eyes of God. I will not break it and I cannot wed another."

"Till death do you part?"

A dead weight fell in Adam's stomach, but it vanished in the blinding fury of the Beast.

"If anything should happen to Belle while we are here, Father, there will be no mercy in my vengeance!"

His roar made the room echo, but Prince Jacques maintained his cold, impassive face, the only change the raging fires in his eyes.

"Get out of my sight," Prince Jacques whispered.

Adam turned on his heel and walked briskly to the door. As the maidservant opened it for him, he heard his father say one last thing.

"You do not know how much I wish you had died instead."

* * *

As the door clicked shut behind Adam, Prince Jacques turned his glare to the other figure.

"How do you explain this, Cassandre?"

The maidservant stepped from the shadows, but she was no longer the maidservant. Her greasy, mousy hair gleamed golden, grey eyes became bright mirrors, and her dirty, rough skin smoothed.

"What is it you want me to explain, Master?" the Enchantress – Cassandre – purred, "I had nothing to do with the marriage, you know. I'm sure I don't know why you've chosen _that_ to fight with your son about."

"We had a deal," Jacques said, biting off each word as he moved around his desk and approached her menacingly, "_Have_ a deal. I told you I wanted you to ensure that I never saw that boy again. And I thought you did so. Imagine my surprise when I received a letter from his majordomo two months ago revealing that he was alive and well! I _cannot stress_ how disappointed I was."

"I could not do it," Cassandre said with a careless shrug, "It is a natural law. I cannot use my powers to kill anyone. I went to him, as you ordered; I turned him into a beast. He might have killed himself, he might have been killed; I thought both were equally likely. Who could have known he would survive –?"

She was cut off, choking, as Prince Jacques wrapped his hand around her throat and slammed her back against a wall.

"_You_ knew," Jacques hissed, his fingers tensing threateningly, "You always know."

"How could I have?" Cassandre gasped, her fingers gripping the hand at her throat, "You captured me, did you not, Jacques? You wrote your wish on the parchment, you burnt it in the candle, you said the prayer. I am yours to command until you release me."

"Exactly," Jacques whispered, "So why isn't he dead?"

"I told you, in some things I am quite –" she struggled to draw another breath and looked at him from under her eyelashes, "—powerless."

His hand around her throat loosened, his other hand took both hers and pinned them to the wall above her head. He stepped in so that his body held hers against the wall.

"Are you powerless now?" Jacques whispered into her ear.

"_Yes_."

"And if I ordered you to suck my cock," he continued, "you would be a good little fairy?"

"It is my pleasure to serve you, Master," she gasped, her lower body beginning to writhe against his.

"And if I fucked you here, against this wall?"

"Please –"

He released her throat and grabbed one of her legs, jerking it up and pressing himself against her. "Please…what?"

"Fuck me!" she moaned.

He stepped away abruptly.

"Kneel on the floor," he barked. She did so, the stone hard, cold against her hands and knees. She heard him kneel behind her, and he threw her skirt up, covering her head, her ass bare to the cool night air.

"You owe me obedience," he hissed as he slid into her.

It was hard, fast, and soon over. He stood up and went back to his desk without another word. Cassandre stood more slowly, rubbing her knees, pulling her skirts back down around her legs.

"Wait," Jacques said, as she turned to leave, "How goes it with Louise Élizabeth's daughter? Henriette, isn't it?"

Cassandre made a face, "Why would you wish to know of her? She's sent her babe to be raised by a wet nurse with her other children at Bagnolet under the eye of her husband, despite her father-in-law's refusal to recognize any of them as legitimate – did you hear of that? It would seem her husband has totally given up on her if he does not demand she return to the chateau herself. This failure of a marriage, of course, means that the Duchesses Charlotte and Louise refuse to speak to one another again. In short, someone needs to take a horsewhip to that girl."

"No, I think she is perfect, just what we need," Jacques murmured. Cassandre turned to leave again, and again he stopped her, "No, do not go out. Go to my bedchamber. Remove your clothes. Wait on the bed. I'll be there after I've concluded some business."

He did not watch her leave, and did not return to his ledgers and letters. He sat, thinking, until his candle burned down.


	7. Chapter 7

**I am sorry for the belated warning, dear readers, but this is no happy, sparkling fairy tale...**

_Belle_.

She stirred and groaned, her eyelids heavy. She hadn't meant to fall asleep before Adam got back, but she was so tired…

_Belle, are you awake?_

_Adam?_ she thought, although perhaps she spoke the word out loud. Through the haziness of sleep she felt his warm body sliding into the bed behind her.

_Adam!_ This time she was almost certain she gasped the word out loud as he laid a trail of kisses down the back of her neck. Little fiery tingles began to run through her body. She tried to turn her head around to kiss him. As she arched back, his hands moved up from her waist, coming around to cup her breasts.

_Belle, you are so beautiful_, she felt against the back of her neck as his warm hands moved down her body. She moaned and pressed against him, feeling hot and needy.

The sound of his breathing changed, became harsher. In a sudden move he flipped her to her back, and held himself on his elbows between her legs, poised at her entrance.

_Mine._

Her gut clenched at the growling voice. No, that wasn't her Adam, that was…

All thought flew away as he entered her in one swift movement. And again. And again. He began a rough, violent rhythm. Belle gripped his shoulders for dear life even as his hands moved to grab her hips, to hold her where he wanted her. It was so different from before, and yet…

_Exhilarating!_

His breath was hot and heavy against her ear, and every desperate thrust struck a chord of feeling within her.

_Belle, please!_

The simple plea undid her, and she cried out as she came around him. He groaned as he followed her in bliss.

He did not immediately leave her, once he'd finished. He remained above her, his weight resting on his arms, his breathing gradually slowing. After some minutes he moved to the side and pulled her in close to his chest, resting his chin atop her head.

"Adam?" she whispered, "How…how was your father? Is anything wrong?"

"No darling, everything is fine. Go to sleep."

But his arms were tense around her, his face was buried in her hair, and she had a hard time believing him.

When she awoke in the faint light of dawn, Belle felt anxious, unable to return to sleep. She got up and dressed, wanting to walk these halls as she walked back home when she woke before the others. However, this was a different place, and she could already hear the footsteps and voices of servants as they rushed to prepare for their masters' days.

Outside. She suddenly knew she had to go outside. She was apprehensive, claustrophobic, she needed fresh air and some space.

Once out in the cold air of early spring, Belle found herself having to walk quickly to keep warm. She did not know the layout of the grounds here, she could set herself no specific path to walk, so she simply walked and walked until she felt warm again. In the end, she found herself in the orangerie. It was significantly warmer here, if still chilly, and the scholar in her could admire the innovation of the space to protect the tropical trees and other plants. And over there, were those not rose bushes?

Even as she approached the bushes, hoping to see a few brave buds, another figure appeared among them. It was a young man, well-dressed, and perhaps a few years younger than herself, but tall, slender, and with a nose ever so slightly too large for his face.

It was that nose that decided her. She would have been intimidated by the types of nobles she had imagined meeting, ones possessing flawless beauty, or else dignity in their flaws. This young man, however, why, she could feel no more intimidated by him than by an overgrown puppy!

"Do you think they will bloom soon?" Belle asked as she approached, smiling, friendly, wishing to make this acquaintance. The young man looked up at her in surprise, and then regarded her warily, coldly.

"I would not know, I am no gardener," he answered impassively. Then, for an instant, his guard seemed to drop, and he sighed sadly as he regarded the yet-barren bushes, his fingers running through messy brown hair, "I had hoped they were already blooming, this has quite ruined my plans."

Belle fished around for something to say, wishing to dispel his sadness, but not wanting him to act coldly towards her again.

"'I have never known any distress that an hour's reading did not relieve,'" she quoted with a hesitant little smile. The man suddenly laughed, and the sound seemed to surprise both of them. Belle couldn't help but stare at him, how his face lit up, regained some color, and no longer seemed so haggard and thin.

"Dear Lady," he said with a chuckle, "Montisquieu is a genius to be sure, but has he not more profound words than those?"

"I didn't know whose words they were," Belle admitted quietly, her face reddening, "Sometimes I pick up books for something to read, but I don't really understand them. But I remember some parts!"

He was looking at her more curiously now, his eyebrows raised, but a kind smile on his lips, "What's this? A woman who not only loves to read, but is willing to skim through great theoretical treatises in order to indulge in her passion?"

"I didn't just skim through, I read the whole thing!" Belle protested, "I just didn't understand all of it…"

"Well no more, my lady!" he said with an even larger smile on his face, "I have just realized why fate brought us together this morning. Come with me tomorrow to the library, we will find that pesky Montesquieu and decode his verbosity for you!"

"Oh you don't need to do that for me," Belle said, trying to be polite, not sure if she was feeling the sudden kindred this man seemed to feel, but she could not hide her eagerness at the thought. He laughed again.

"You must, my lady! In fact," his eyes twinkled and his voice hushed, "If we can get through Montesquieu, we will surely be allowed to reward ourselves with a different, more entertaining choice from the king's very own library."

"Alright I'll come!" Belle gasped all at once, unable to resist, "But…who are you?"

"Oh, forgive my manners!" he said suddenly, his eyes wide, and suddenly he was all limbs as he tried to sketch a bow, "I am Benedetto Filippo d'Este. And you, my lady?"

"Belle…de Scorailles," she answered, stumbling over her new name, trying to ignore the common plainness of her given name.

"Ah, Belle, a suitable name indeed," he said, although a twinkle in his eye suggested he was having some private joke, "And what brings you here so early in the morning?"

"I don't know…I just had to do something," Belle tried to explain, "And you? What plans have the rosebushes ruined?"

His face fell gracefully into a sad smile, "I had hoped to find a flower to take to the tomb of a lost friend."

"Oh Benedetto," Belle gasped softly, "I am so sorry, here, surely one of these buds has opened – let me help you look!"

There were but two buds opened enough to give a glimpse of their radiant color; one red, one yellow. Belle held them out in her hands, waiting for Benedetto to choose. He leaned over her hands thoughtfully a few moments before taking both buds and glancing up at her.

"Do you know the significance of the color of roses, Belle?"

"Yes," she answered quickly, eager to share her knowledge, "These two – yellow is for friendship, red is for love."

"Very true," he said, "In light of our acquaintance, may I offer you this yellow bud, in honor of our new friendship?"

"Why thank you sir," Belle said with a silly little curtsey as she accepted the flower, "But," she continued with a stern look, "You must remember that you promised to take me to the library!"

"Of course! I could never forget. Meet me again here tomorrow," Benedetto told her, "I'll show you the way. I'm afraid I must go now; I must pay my respects and then go see my mother yet this morning. _Au revoir_, Belle!"

"_Au revoir_, Benedetto!" Belle called after him. She could almost hug herself with glee. Here was a friend. No duchess or princess, already embroiled in feuds she didn't know anything about. He'd promised her books, and that was enough for her.

"Good morning, Mother," Benedetto said cheerfully, placing a tray of pastries before her. The Duchess Charlotte Aglaé did not reply to him for a moment, and instead glared at her maids until they quit the room. A glare from her was enough to send any servant scuttling away, as few had the courage to match her dark brows once drawn in a frown. After they had left, she looked at Bennedetto with her cool green eyes, the slight lessening in the severity of her mouth her only reply.

"Good morning only to those who slept well last night, which I did not. What was that great commotion at the gates yesterday evening?" she asked, her pale, thin fingers dissecting a croissant.

"The arrival of Prince Adam and his bride," her son answered, "That is, Prince Jacques de Scorailles' youngest son."

The Duchess snorted, "Damn my grandfather for his virility, I do not even know half my own cousins. Have you met the prince?"

"No, but I met his lady just at dawn this morning," Benedetto replied, then his tone grew thoughtful, "She was strolling through the orangerie and I happened upon her. I have never met another person there so early in the morning, which is why I go."

His mother's sharp eyes fixed on him, "And? What kind of woman is she? My dear Uncle Jacques has not been bragging of any conquest for his son. Who is her family?"

"I found her to be a very pleasant sort of person," Benedetto mused mildly, "She was cheerful and intelligent. As for her family, the rumor is that she is but a commoner. I overheard one of Prince Trae's manservants saying the old duke plans to get rid of her in exchange for a more suitable bride for his son."

"Nonsense," the Duchess huffed, "My uncle keeps a tight rein on his sons; he would never allow for such a low marriage. He has always been ambitious, much like my dear Aunt Louise Francoise. They both hated my mother, you know, when she made such an advantageous marriage. I'd hoped it would end with my nephew's marriage to Henriette, but she is a hussy like her mother. In any case, my sweetling, you must look into this marriage. You must find the girl's family, and see if we and our position are threatened. I will not have my bastard uncle's family raised above us, when he has been so cold and ungrateful."

"I shall do my best, Mother," Benedetto replied, setting down his teacup and going to her wardrobe, "Now, what shall we put you in today, Mother? I know you fancied the red and your garnets earlier this week, but consider the sunshine we can see already today. Might I suggest the green and your emeralds? Much better suited to your complexion in this light."

"My dearest son, you know I only rust your opinion when it comes to matters of my toilette," the Duchess answered, a hint of a smile breaking through her stern exterior, "But don't you think the pearls would do better?"

"Oh no, Mother. Come, let me show you," he replied, picking up an emerald necklace, holding it to her neck as he stood behind her. He carefully ignored the grey hairs among the black. So many now, his mother was aging…

"There," he said with satisfaction as his mother surveyed herself in the mirror, "It is much more appropriate."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," the Duchess conceded, patting his hand fondly. Her small hand held his, and she met his eyes in the mirror, "You are such a good son to your poor old mother. But Benny, my darling, I worry so about you… My sweet, you are much too pale and thin. Here you are my only child with me in this awful place…"

"You shouldn't worry, Mother," he said gently, carefully withdrawing to place the necklace back in its velvet box, "I will stay safe, I promise you. Now, I'll call one of your ladies to dress you. Until dinner, Mother."

The duchess watched as her baby – her youngest except for a daughter who had stayed behind in Modena with her husband – left in his leisurely, unhurried way. She allowed the silly little ladies to come in and serve her. She considered her son's account of her cousin's new wife.

_Cheerful and intelligent,_ she thought, _Obviously far too good for any offspring of Jacques'. As soon as she is settled, I will see the girl for myself. I am certain we will find much to talk about._


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! I appreciate all comments, and I rely on you to tell me how the story's going! Hope you enjoy this new chapter...**

Adam woke to the bright morning light as the curtains were thrown back from the windows. He lay still, waiting for Belle to come and try to convince him to get up. He shifted slightly, preparing to reach up and pull her back into the bed with him.

"Excuse me, Master? I am very sorry, but you must get up now."

That was Lumière's voice. Adam frowned and squinted his eyes open against the light. Lumière never came to wake him up, no one ever did except for Belle…

Gradually his eyes adjusted and the unfamiliar furnishings and room came into focus. Of course. They were at Versailles now. He had spoken to his father the night before, and then had come back and...

"Where's Belle?" he snapped, jumping out of the bed. She should not be gone; she was not familiar with the palace. She should be here, with him. In the light of day he would be able to hug her gently and kiss her, to make up for his rough lovemaking of the night before.

"I believe Madame went for a walk," Lumière said mildly, projecting calm into Adam's frenzied mind, "I am sure she is fine. But you, Master, we must get you dressed quickly. Your father has summoned you and wishes you to be in his chambers within the hour."

"Where did she walk to?" Adam asked, refusing to think about his father this early in the morning, even as Lumière quickly brought his clothes.

"Ms. Potts saw her heading towards the gardens," Lumière replied, shaking out a pair of breeches that had become wrinkled during their journey.

"It's cold out, she should have stayed inside," Adam said, dressing and looking accusingly at Lumière. Lumière shrugged.

"Master, you know how hard it is to stop Madame when she has her mind set on something. She did think to wear her cloak, if that is any comfort."

"Hardly," Adam growled as he adjusted his jacket, "What does my father want me for?"

"I would assume," Lumière said carefully as he followed Adam out of the bedchamber, "He expects you to do as your brothers do; run his errands, help his political career. He is a very busy man."

Adam stopped suddenly, "Are my brothers going to be there?"

Lumière frowned and raised an eyebrow, "Master, take heart! Do not let them drive you away! They are no longer _enfants_, and neither are you! Surely four grown sons can tolerate each other in their father's company?"

"I'm not scared of them," Adam said petulantly as he began walking again.

"Good to hear it," Lumière replied dryly, "Now, Master, I must go and see to the unloading of the rest of your belongings. Shall I tell Ms. Potts to bring some nourishment in a few hours?"

"I don't know how long this will take; do whatever Belle says," Adam answered distractedly.

"Very good, Master," Lumière said, and turned to go back to their rooms.

Adam found himself alone in front of the doors to his father's chambers. He paused, tapping his fingers against the sides of his thighs. He was not afraid, it was broad daylight! The sun shone in from large windows spaced evenly in the corridor. He took a deep breath and opened the doors. Ignoring the rush of cool air that fled into the corridor from the room, he entered.

The room was much the same as it had been the night before. There was his father, reading some papers at his desk, not acknowledging his entrance.

But he was not alone.

There, standing before the desk, much closer than he had dared approach last night, and now looking over their shoulders with stony faces, were his brothers.

Time had not changed them, only made them more of what they had been as children. Léandre now sported a rough, dark beard, and undoubtedly stood several inches taller than Adam, with greater breadth of shoulder. Persée had not grown so tall, and had remained thin. A pair of spectacle still rested at the end of his long nose.

And there was Trae. He remained the shortest of his brothers, weasel-like, prone to sharp, quick movements. Oh how well Adam remembered the swift strike that could deliver a pinch hard enough to leave a mark for days. He alone smiled at Adam's entrance. It was not a welcoming look.

"Finally we have all found ourselves here," Prince Jacques said dryly, placing his papers down, "Now perhaps, gentlemen, we shall get some work done."

The three older sons turned themselves back to face their father, and Adam hurried forward to stand in line with them, keeping a safe distance from Trae.

"Well, Léandre," Prince Jacques began, steepling his fingers, "How did the dinner go with the Marquise de Pompadour?"

"Very well, Father," Léandre answered in a deep, calm voice, "I believe she would be very interested to meet with you for further discussion."

"Then by all means find the time that is right for her. I am, of course, willing to wait upon her at her leisure," Prince Jacques replied, although his words came out through an ugly little sneer, "Then return later, I think we shall need to have another little discussion with the Comte d'Argenson"

Léandre made a short bow and exited the room.

"Persée," Prince Jacques said, his sharp eyes fastening on his second oldest, "The accounts from the estates, do you have them?"

"I have them here, Father," Persée answered, holding forth a large leather book.

"Good," Prince Jacques said with a nod, "Wait just a moment, and we shall go over those shortly. I trust there will be no mistakes."

His eyes narrowed at he looked at Trae.

"Well?"

"It is done," Trae said simply. Prince Jacques smiled in a way that did not reach his eyes.

"I have no further need of you today, leave and do as you will."

Trae turned on his heel, and with one last sidelong glance at Adam, left the room.

Prince Jacques finally turned his gaze to Adam. Adam tried to maintain an appearance of calm, but despite himself he could feel every muscle clench. He waited, for the snide remark, the scolding, the look of hatred.

He did not receive any of those. Prince Jacques merely regarded him coldly, dispassionately, as he held out a sealed letter.

"This is an important missive for the king. Give it to one of his manservants. You will not speak to him."

Adam took the letter, dumbfounded both at the lack of criticism he had received, and at his mission. The king? Why would his father entrust him with something so important?

"No, don't leave yet," Prince Jacques snapped as Adam turned to go, "Wait just a moment. Persée, bring those documents here."

Adam stood, waiting, as Prince Jacques and Persée began a careful analysis of the accounts. It was just a few minutes before there was another knock on the door. A woman slipped in, a noblewoman. She was young, perhaps around Adam's own age. She glanced at him with grey eyes under heavy lashes. Her full lips made the slightest twitch of a smile, and she strode past him, her brown curls flouncing behind her.

"Ah, Henriette," Prince Jacques said, looking up from the accounts, "Thank you for coming, I have a letter here for your mother, will you see that it is delivered?"

"Of course, dear Uncle," she said with a smile as she took it. She straightened and bit her lower lip, "Is there anything else?"

"No, go on," he replied, "Adam, you may leave now."

Adam held the door for the young woman, and they found themselves walking side-by-side in the corridor.

"You're the youngest son, aren't you?" she asked as they walked, smiling up at him.

"Yes," he answered shortly. She giggled, and he looked down at her in surprise, and a little anger.

"Oh don't look like that," she said, with another charming smile, "I was just thinking how terrible fathers are, don't you agree?"

"I…" Adam hesitated. How was he supposed to answer a question like that? Who was this woman?

"Oh admit it!" she said, her hand touching his sleeve for an instant before slipping away, "They're always asking you to 'do this' and 'do that.' I have seen so many fathers, they're all the same. My own father died when I was young; I'd like to imagine he would have been different, but the chances aren't likely, are they?"

"I'm…sorry to hear that…" Adam stammered, completely thrown off. The young woman – Henriette – continued as if he hadn't spoken.

"I suppose it's just because they love you. They wouldn't notice you if they didn't care, would they?"

"I'd imagine they could notice you without caring," Adam murmured bitterly, his own father forefront in his mind.

"But would one bring his son from hundreds of miles away if he did not care?" she asked shrewdly, looking up at him with a twinkle in her eye. Adam again hesitated. Could there be some truth in that?

"Oh don't be so serious!" she exclaimed, tugging on his sleeve a little, "You look so frightening! I'll bet if you smiled you'd be quite a handsome man, you look almost beastly!"

"You wound me," Adam replied, raising an eyebrow at her, finding himself smiling. _If only she knew_... The corners of her mouth curled up.

"I bet I could make it up to you," she said, low and conspiratorially. Then, in a lighter tone, "I was planning to ride my horse later this evening, would you like to ride with me?"

She leaned into him, her arm attempting to wrap around his, and he could almost see down the front of her dress. Adam had a sudden realization. Belle would not like this. She would not like how this woman was acting and talking, and she would not like Adam here. He was not sure why this thought struck him so forcefully, but it did, and he could not break free of it.

"I'm afraid I cannot, I plan to have dinner with my wife," he said, abruptly, coldly, stepping aside quickly to place some distance. Henriette did not seem put off by this; her smile remaining naturally in place.

"Another time then, maybe? I shall look forward to it. Au revoir, Adam! Oh, and look for the king in the Bull's Eye Salon!" She twirled around and gave a little wave as she headed down a different corridor.

Adam watched her warily for a moment before continuing. He stepped outside and groaned as he saw the distance to the main palace. It was chilly, and he had not thought to bring his cloak.

He walked quickly, the movement sufficient to keep him warm. When he reached the main palace he was grateful for the warmth, but, looking around, realized he had no idea where the Bull's Eye Salon was. He hailed a passing servant girl, and gradually found his way to the great set of double doors. He paused, not knowing what to do. Should he knock? He had never had to knock at a door in his life; he was the master of his own castle, no place had been closed to him.

He had made up his mind and was just reaching his hand out to knock when the door opened and he found himself face-to-face with another surprised-looking gentleman.

"Bonjour," the other man said, once he'd taken a step back, "Are you here to see my father?"

"I have a letter for the king, from Prince Jacques," Adam said clumsily.

"Here, I'll take it back into him,'' the other man said, reaching out his hand.

"From Prince Jacques, you say?" cam a voice of another man from within the room, "Louis, my son, is that Jacques' youngest? My people tell me he arrived last night."

The young man at the door raised an eyebrow to Adam, who flushed, realizing he was speaking to the Dauphin.

"I am, Your Highness," he said, and the Dauphin relayed the information back into the room.

"Well tell him to come in here; I have a mind to know what this mystery child is like."

"I shouldn't –" Adam tried to say to the Dauphin, knowing his father had told him not to speak with the king, but the Dauphin ushered him in anyways.

Adam reluctantly entered the room, and was propelled forward, past the guard at the door, well-into the luxurious apartment, and before the king, who sat comfortably in a great chair at the far end of the room.

The king himself was a handsome man, just beginning to soften with middle-age. His dark eyes studied Adam carefully.

"You must forgive me, for meeting with you here," he said, although his imperial tone had probably never known remorse, "However, the renovations of the Council Study have just begun, and I do not expect it to be usable for several more years."

"This is fine, Your Majesty," Adam said, still feeling foolish. He had no idea how to treat someone higher in rank than himself. He tried to bring forth the letter elegantly, but almost dropped it in the process, "My father asked me to bring this to you."

The king took the letter delicately from Adam, opened, and slowly perused it. He finished, and fixed Adam with another considering look.

"This of course requires my immediate attention," he said, with a half-smile and a quirk of his eyebrows, "Stay a moment, I shall have a return letter for you soon."

There were some papers, an inkwell, and a quill on a small table by the king's chair, to which he presently applied himself.

"So," the king began, as his quill scratched out the first words, "You have not been at court before, have you…whatever is your name?"

"It's Adam, Your Majesty," Adam answered quickly. The king stopped briefly and looked up, giving him another enigmatic smile.

"Adam," he repeated, then continued his writing, "Why has your father brought you back now?"

"I don't know, Your Majesty."

"Of course not, our parents are ever a mystery to us. Tell me, what sort of person are you? I've met your brothers, of course, which are you most like?"

"I don't think I'm like any of them," Adam said, failing to hide the bitterness in his voice. The king's quill paused again, but he did not look up.

"Are you now? Strange. They do say blood is thicker than water."

The king finished his letter, folded it, and sealed it. He did not hand it to Adam, but instead sat back in his chair, hands folded over his middle, and considered Adam for a moment before speaking again.

"Let me ask you a question I have had opportunity to ask your brothers," he finally said, "It is about the English colonies. They have been a constant thorn in my side. I asked Léandre what I should do about them, and he said I should of course go to war, to beat them back. On a separate occasion, I posed the same question to Persée, and he said I should take no more imports from them, either here or in our own colonies. They would stand to lose a great deal of money, if I did so. Then, during one of the few times I have actually seen the third brother – what is his name again?"

"Trae."

"Yes, of course. Indeed, I finally had a moment with him, and I asked him for his opinion. A king should always be well-informed, you see. He is such a strange fellow, I do not think I understand his sense of humor. He said that the New World is dangerous, and perhaps the English governor might fall afoul of savages… He has the strangest smile, does he not?"

"The English governor?"

"Nevermind. So, Adam, what do you propose I do about the English?"

"Your Majesty, I really don't know…" Adam tried to say, but the king was looking at him with a determination that would not be disappointed. Adam tried to think quickly, but he could not think of anything that would surpass what his brothers had said.

_What would Belle say?_

"I think," he began, keeping an image of his wife's thoughtful face in his mind, "That there should be some negotiation. They have as much to lose as you do in a war, and your people would not appreciate the embargo on trade. Where one English governor falls, another will take his place. We are living in an Age of Reason, and men should interact as such instead of opting for the barbarism of their ancestors."

He had stolen that last line almost verbatim from his wife, who had hurled it at him during one of their few arguments. It had sufficiently stunned him into silence as he mulled it over, and he hoped it would suitably impress the king.

"Interesting," the king said, slowly picking up the letter and handing it to Adam, "Here, take this to your father. And expect one of my valets in the next few days; I will desire your company for dinner. You may leave now."

Adam took the letter, bowed, and quickly went to the door. Just before he left, the king's voice reached him one more time.

"Oh, and Adam," the king called, "You needn't tell your father about this little chat of ours. He is a busy man, and we wouldn't want him to make something out of nothing."

Adam strode straight to his father's desk and held out the letter. Prince Jacques looked up, put down both his quill and the paper he had been glossing, and took the letter.

"Did you speak to the king?"

"No, sir."

"Return again tomorrow morning, I will have another task for you. You may leave, return directly to your rooms, you have done well."

Adam held those last four words close to him as he traversed the corridors back to his apartments. They were the first words of praise he had ever received from his father, and it was amazing how much they did to lift the burden he had carried ever since Mr. Chesney had arrived at the castle.

Perhaps his father had summoned him to help, as his brothers had always helped. Perhaps Henriette was still exaggerating when she said his father must care, but maybe now he would have a chance to prove himself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you to all those who have reviewed! I am sorry this is such a short chapter, but I ran out of time to write last week and I wanted to make sure there was****_ something_**** here for you at the usual time!**

Belle looked up from her book as Adam came in the door. She could not help the smile that came to her face as she saw him, and she quickly put her book down.

"My love! I was wondering when you would be back! I just sent Ms. Potts for some food just a few minutes ago – she wouldn't let me go with her, of course," Belle said as she helped him with his cloak and lifted her face for a kiss. He obliged.

"You seem happy today," he commented, letting her drag him back to sit down on the settee.

"I had a wonderful walk this morning!" Belle said with excitement, "I think I've made a friend, and we're going to the palace's library tomorrow. I can only imagine what books they must have there, and from what far-off places! I have great hopes that it will take us several months to go through them all!"

"Good, I am glad you'll have some company and something to occupy yourself with while I help my father," Adam replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He seemed very calm, and Belle stole a quick glance at him, and then a longer one. Indeed, he did not have that look in his face, that empty, yet tightly-coiled look she had come to associate with thoughts of his father. He seemed more thoughtful.

"How was your morning?" Belle asked, wondering if she should act casual or sensitive. She was burning with curiosity. The mere mention of his father had elicited such profound reactions before, what had changed that morning?

"It was fine," Adam answered carelessly. He glanced down at Belle, and a mischievous smile graced his lips, "I hand-delivered an important missive to the king."

Belle stared, her mouth gaping.

"You what!?" she finally shrieked, her excitement overflowing as she began to issue as many questions as she could muster, "What was he like? What did he look like? Did he look like a king, or was he rather old and slovenly? Was he like King Arthur? Maybe Caesar? Do you suppose he dances or sings?"

"He was a king," Adam said, his hands waving as if to fend off her questions, "He sat straight, he acted with self-assurance, and the clothes he wore probably cost more than your entire wardrobe, which Cogsworth told me of and I then promptly forgot."

"But what was he _like_?" Belle insisted, tugging on his sleeve in her insatiable desire to _know_, "Is he clever or dumb? Is he fair or fickle? I would ask if he was frugal, but I suppose your comment about his clothes has already answered that. Really, my _whole_ wardrobe? Anyways, in short, is he a king who cares about his people and willing to take charge when he sees them poorly treated?"

"Strangely enough, I was not invited to sit down and listen to all his thoughts and desires," Adam said dryly, extricating his arm before wrapping it around Bell and squeezing her to him, "He is a king, he will do what he wants."

"But will he listen if someone tells him he's wrong?" Belle insisted.

"My darling, I don't know many people who would dare tell the king he is wrong. And," Adam continued, looking down at her sternly, "I don't expect my lovely wife to do so either, if we happen to have dinner with him later this week."

"WE'RE GOING TO HAVE DINNER WITH THE KING!?"

Ms. Potts came in just then with their lunch, and Belle took the opportunity to go over _again_ proper table manners with Adam. Back at the castle she had given up, and in some cases had herself adopted Adam's more efficient eating mannerisms. Now though, she brought the food into their dining room, abandoning the small table she had arranged at the settee for this purpose earlier. If either one of them was going to eat with the king, there would be straight backs, no elbows on the table, and the knife and fork would be held in the correct hands.

"Too many things are happening!" Belle declared after they had finished their meal, "We just arrived here, at the capital, last night! You have spoken with the king! I am going to read more books than I ever imagined! Do you want to ride the horses? I want to run like the wind!"

Adam hesitated, "I would love to, but I think my father wants me to remain here, in our rooms."

Belle's spirits immediately fell. It was possible Adam's father had not terrorized him this morning, but that man was still a monster. Every time she heard him mentioned, Belle was beginning to experience a burning hot sensation in her middle and a desire to find him and give him a piece of her mind. Oh if only Adam would introduce her to him, and to those mysterious brothers too for that matter, what wouldn't she tell them…

"I have an idea," Belle whispered, conspiratorially, leaning into Adam and looking up at him, "Why don't we have a moonlit ride tonight, when no one can see us?"

Adam's face brightened.

"I like the way you think, wife."

"Good," Belle said happily, starting to get up, "What shall we do until then? We can read the next story of _Canterbury Tales_… Have we reached _The Miller's Tale_ yet?"

"Wait, Belle," Adam said, gently taking her hand when she would have gone to retrieve her book. She looked back at him and felt apprehension rising when she saw his face looking…abashed.

"What is it, Adam?" she was almost too afraid to ask. This place, his father, it was all playing havoc with her nerves.

Adam glanced around, making sure no one else was in the room.

"I just wanted to ask…wanted to make sure… Belle, I didn't hurt you last night, did I?"

She stared at him a second, nonplussed, and then blushed deeply.

"Oh no! Not at all!"

"Are you sure?" Adam asked, committed fully to finding the truth now that he had breached this taboo subject, "I know I didn't have much control –"

"Please don't worry about that, I liked it," Belle said quickly, desperate to get him to stop talking about it. The realization of what she said out loud hit her, and her hands flew up to her mouth in mortification. Adam looked as surprised as she did for a second, and then in one stride reached her, holding her close to him, nuzzling his face into her hair.

"Wait, Adam, not now!" Belle said, feeling the bright, exposing light of the sun through the window as it hit her neck just before Adam kissed her there.

"Why?" Adam asked, his hands stilling, but his mouth trailing up by her ear.

"There are too many people around!" Belle said, "I can hear them in the halls, they can hear us in here. And I don't know where Lumière or Ms. Potts or Madame Armoire went, what if they came in? I think they're still unpacking. There are just too many people!"

Adam released her reluctantly, but with a teasing smile, "I think there's something else we'll have to do tonight under cover of darkness."

"You know, maybe I will work on my knitting with Ms. Potts tonight; she was going to teach me how to make cables," Belle said primly. Adam smiled and gave her a last chaste kiss on the forehead.

"Go get your book, darling, let's hear what the Miller has to say."

Belle retrieved the book, but after flipping through the chapter and reminding herself how raunchy the _Miller's Tale_ was, she quickly skipped to the _Parson's Tale_. She read resolutely forward, ignoring Adam as his eyes started to glaze over.

She would probably regret this later, when she tried to convince Adam to listen through another of the tales with her. He enjoyed comedies, and light-hearted stories. He had not yet advanced enough to appreciate and soldier through some of the stories she held close to her heart. They were not the most exciting, but they opened her eyes to a much wider world. Like Montesquieu – was there ever a chance that Adam would struggle through Montesquieu with her? One day, her darling husband-pupil, one day….

In any case, it was best if she read this dry tale now, instead of the bawdy _Miller's Tale_. She did not want to do anything that might entice him, not until she understood how things stood in this strange place. He had not hurt her the night before, but she had experienced a moment of fear. It was her husband's body that came to her, but it was the Beast that took her.


	10. Chapter 10

When Belle woke the next morning, Adam was already gone. She sat up in their bed and looked around in confusion for a moment. The pinkish light of dawn was visible over the tops of the drapes – she had not overslept. Adam's father must have called for him early.

She rose and dressed simply. Madame Armoire had given her a lecture the day before on proper dress at court – in essence, that if Belle could dress herself, whatever she was wearing was not appropriate. In this, Belle was very deliberate in her rebellion. Today she was going to read through books with a new friend – it made no sense to wear something that prevented her from sitting comfortably.

Her cloak was fastened, and she was on her way. She slipped through the corridors easily, completely ignored by the maids and menservants who scurried to be ready for the wakening of their masters and mistresses.

It was but a short distance in the crisp morning air before she reached the shelter of the orangerie. She stood among the potted rosebushes and, finding herself alone, idly searched them for new buds as she waited.

Birds began to chirp merrily outside, and the morning light had changed to golden. Belle began to look around, standing on her toes to see over the bushes. At first she told herself that it was because she was so excited to see the library. Eventually she began to fear that Benedetto had forgotten, or the whole thing was a mean-spirited prank. What was she thinking; she was just a simple country girl…

The crack of running shoes against the stone floor made her heart lift, and soon Benedetto bounded into view, breathing heavily.

"My apologies, Belle," he said, bending over and resting his hands on his knees for a moment, "I overslept. There was a dinner last night I was obliged to attend and a few silly fools would not stop talking and allow the rest of us to go to bed!"

"Please, don't worry about it!" Belle told him quickly, "I am just glad that you're here now!"

"Well, shall we then?" Benedetto asked, gesturing to the great doors of the orangerie as he began to lead the way. Belle could not help herself from bouncing a little as she walked, such was her excitement. Benedetto noticed, and laughed out loud.

"I think that once you begin reading Montesquieu, you will not be so excited. He can be very dry at times. What am I saying – his topic is very dry! I feel it is my duty to read books on statecraft, but I rarely find that I enjoy it."

"But it must be fascinating!" Belle objected, "So much depends on how a ruler – be he king or merely lord – decides to govern those in his care. My own village had little interference from our lord – and needed none – and was prosperous. But on our journey here, I saw more than one village that needed more care than it was getting! How can a lord let something like that rest on his conscience?"

"You know, Montesquieu has some interesting thoughts that could address that sort of problem," Benedetto told her, "I will see if I can find the book today, but the basic gist is that a ruler should not be answerable only to himself."

"Even the king?" Belle asked, eyes wide.

"Even the king," Benedetto confirmed, "Montesquieu believes the nobles mediate the power of the king. It makes sense, does it not? A king cannot displease all his nobles, for if they banded together, they would far outnumber him. But a king must have some power, mustn't he? For he is the king. I'm not sure if I quite understand it, but Montesquieu has an idea that a government should be divided into parts which hold equal power."

"But the king –" Belle began.

"But the king is rarely infallible," Benedetto told her, "His Majesty is a good king, but there have been others before him, and others in different places, who have been less good."

Belle fell silent, thinking about this.

"You mentioned your village," Benedetto began, changing the topic, "Would you tell me about it? It must have been in Fontanges I think, if you belong to the de Scorailles. I have never been there – it is too far to the east when I make the journey from here to Modena."

"It was a lovely place," Belle said, trying to think of it, "My father and I had only lived there a short while – he and I moved around a lot. It was one of the nicer places we stayed, but like the others I never really belonged there… I was never interested in the placid life of a country village."

"Forgive me, perhaps I misunderstood," Benedetto said, "You did not grow up in Fontanges? You were not raised in one of the de Scorailles' chateaus?"

"No…" Belle said hesitantly, wondering if she should tell the truth. Would Benedetto reject her if he knew she was a child of peasants? He was her only friend here – she would have to take a chance, "You see, I became a de Scorailles after I married Adam – Prince Jacques' youngest son. Before that I was merely the daughter of Maurice Chandler – an inventor."

She waited to see if Benedetto would revile her, would turn from her. He did not, instead choosing to regard her thoughtfully as they walked.

"How very interesting," he mused, "A peasant girl marries a grandson of a king."

"A peasant girl is every bit as human as the king himself," Belle said a little irritably.

"Of course, forgive me, Belle, I did not mean to offend you," Benedetto said with sincerity she could not doubt, "But it is unusual. Maurice Chandler – there must be a hundred such men in France. Who is your mother?"

"She died when I was very young," Belle answered quietly.

"Again, my apologies Belle. I do not wish to cause you distress."

"It's alright," Belle told him, "My memories of her remain beautiful. Her name was Adele Dalaine."

"And where did she hail from?"

Belle thought a moment, "Brittany, I believe. No matter how far Papa had to run from the creditors, he would not go back to Brittany. It made him too sad."

"Creditors?"

Belle hesitated again, wondering how much she should tell him, "Papa's inventions are genius, but sometimes there are difficulties… He would be just a few months from making something work, but the money would be gone."

"It is difficult for a man to work alone without a patron," Benedetto said in understanding, "I have been able to support a few poets whose work I admire, but there are so many others with great talent who I do not have the means to fund."

"Still, those artists who you are able to assist must be very grateful," Belle commented, "They face a hard life otherwise."

"I do what I can," Benedetto replied absently, "Ah, here we are. Are you ready for this, Belle?"

"Oh please just open the door!" Belle exclaimed, clasping her hands together. Benedetto obliged, and Belle quickly walked in to the deliciously bookish smell.

The library was large, and packed full of books. There was no place to stand to survey it all at once – each great shelf blocked the view, and behind each shelf was another shelf.

"How does one not get lost in here?" Belle asked.

"You'll figure it out with practice," Benedetto assured here, "Here, I made sure there would be a table where we could work. There is a serving girl who I've seen reading the books sometimes – I asked her to find the works we will require. Of course, I hope you will avoid telling anyone else about her reading habit; many nobles here would not approve."

"Her secret is safe with me," Belle promised. She knew what it was like, to be a woman with an unusual attachment to reading. And she had been among equals back in her village! To face the same kind of hostility, but as a servant among the elite…she could only imagine.

They had worked themselves quite a ways into the maze of bookshelves when finally they rounded the last corner and there was a table, cleared except for a few books, and a young, mousey-haired serving woman standing beside it.

"I have found all the books you requested," she said.

"Thank you, Cass," Benedetto said gratefully, "Belle, this is our little friend Cass."

"Please to meet you," the serving woman said with a small curtsey. Belle liked the spark of intelligence in her grey eyes.

"Thank you so much for finding the books," Belle told her, and she smiled in response before turning back to Benedetto.

"If you'll excuse me, I must get back to my master. He notices when I've been gone too long."

"Of course, do as you must," Benedetto replied, and the young woman quickly disappeared among the shelves.

"Well," Benedetto said, rubbing his hands together and looking at the books, "Shall we begin?"


	11. Chapter 11

**I wish I could update with more and more often! Life just gets so busy... Anyways, please drop a review if you have the time! Hope everyone's enjoying the story!**

Adam waited patiently as his father finished reading a letter at his desk. Adam was content to wait – after the fury that the Comte d'Arnouville had thrown at him in response to Prince Jacque's missive, Adam was certain the comte's reply letter would illicit a similar reaction from his father.

His elder brothers were not there, but Trae was sitting casually in a chair some distance from the desk, picking his nails with a small dagger.

Prince Jacques finally set the letter down on his desk with a frown.

"Damn the king of Sweden to hell," he said to the room at large, "We will see more religious unrest because of him yet, should he live much longer."

"He is an old man, Father," Trae commented, inspecting a thumb, "It is likely he will die soon."

"It will bring me great peace," Prince Jacques replied. He looked at Adam and held out a hand. Adam quickly gave him the letter from the comte. Prince Jacques read through it carefully, his brow furrowing. Adam braced himself, knowing where his father would unleash his frustration.

"Adam, my son," Prince Jacques began calmly, and Adam looked up in surprise.

"Yes, Father?"

"Do know how important the church is to the people of France? It is the place where their sins are abolished, where the poor are fed, and where many find an honorable and noble career."

"Yes, Father."

"Do you realize that the nobility too are important to the people of France?"

"Yes, Father." But he was not so sure. Belle's village had survived and prospered for ten years while he did nothing to help it. Prince Jacques regarded him steadily, perhaps hearing his hesitation.

"There nobility are very important," Prince Jacques repeated, "When our dependents are hungry, we feed them. When they are cold, we shelter them. When they are poor, we hire them. But we cannot do this by living off donations, as the church does. Rome does not send us money to help our efforts. We have a thankless job. Does it not make sense that when we have collected the taxes from our peasants, that money should stay in our hands, where we can use it to better their lives? We have the benefit of birth and education, we know things they cannot. The idea that the capital should have that money to waste on petty problems which will never touch our dependents is ridiculous, is it not, my son?"

"Yes, Father." His voice now stood with more confidence. His father knew how these things worked.

"Now take our dear Comte d'Arnouville," Prince Jacques said with a sneer, "He wishes to take money not just from us, but from the church as well. What foolishness! But I know others have voiced their concerns, it is not just I. I can tell within his reply that the comte knows he is outnumbered. I think soon he will come to his senses and know how foolish his proposition really is. Or the king will see that he loses it."

"Yes, Father."

Prince Jacques slipped the letter from the comte under a pile of papers, and handed a different letter to Adam.

"Deliver this and I will have no further use for you today. I do not expect a reply."

Adam took the envelope and quickly escaped the room before his father's quick temper returned.

Once he'd gained the hallway, Adam checked the addressee. _Duchesse de Chartres_. He frowned. He wished his father would cease sending him on these errands to people he didn't know – and there weren't very many people he _did_ know – without giving some further direction.

He only had to ask two servants for directions – he was getting better at this. When he finally reached the door to the Duchess's apartments he knocked and a serving girl answered.

"I have a message for the duchess," he said, preparing to simply turn and leave.

"Oh no, please come inside, monsieur. My mistress will insist."

Not wanting to run the risk of offending a duchess, Adam let himself be seated in the spacious foyer. As the girl went to get the duchess, he looked around. The place was richly appointed, with gilded furniture, and the walls covered in red leather. There were large vases of flowers, but any floral smell was covered up by that of more exotic plants scattered around the room. He tried to stand to examine one of the strange plants, but gave up when he realized how far he had sunk into the luxurious cushions.

He heard the door to the inner apartment open, and hefted himself up, turned around, ready with a bow to greet the duchess. He stopped mid-motion, mouth open.

"Good afternoon, Adam," Henriette said with a teasing little smile, "Forgive me, I've just woken up."

She was still in her dressing gown, playing with the letter from Prince Jacques between her fingers. Adam wasn't sure what he should do. He had the distinct impression that he should not see any woman but Belle in such a state of undress, but Henriette did not seem embarrassed. She sauntered to a seat close to his and sat down casually, rearranging her clothes without seeming to cover herself further.

"Please sit down, Adam," she said with a little laugh, and Adam promptly obeyed. He could see far too much standing above her like that…

"Forgive me, I cannot stay," he said, belatedly, "And my father did not require a reply. I should be going."

"Oh just stay a little while," she told him, "There will be some tea here in a moment. How are things with your father, in any case? I believe you were quite tense, the last we talked."

"He tells me what to do and I do it," Adam said simply, "As his son, it is my duty. I hope I have given him no reason for complaint."

"Well that doesn't sound bad at all!" Henriette exclaimed, "You'll make your father very proud, I'm sure."

"I hope so," Adam replied stiffly, "If you'll excuse me, I must go see to my wife –"

"Ah! Your wife! I have of course heard of your marriage," Henriette said with a smile, but then a playfully serious look came over her face, "Now, dear Adam, you must know I am very protective of my family, and what I have to say is meant only as concern for you. I have heard that your wife… Well, frankly my dear I have heard that she is a peasant. While I suppose that does not make her in full a bad person, you must understand I have my reservations when I think of your marriage."

Adam stared at her, shocked.

"My marriage," he said evenly, "is not something I will discuss with you."

"Oh please, Adam!" Henriette said with a twinkling little laugh, "Do not be offended! I only worry, as I told you. You would not believe the things some women will do for power! Have you heard of my great-grandmother, Madame de Montespan? I am sorry to mention her, for I know it was such tragic slander that linked her to the fate of your poor grandmother. But I must tell you, it was not her fault! She was led astray by one of her companions, a Mademoiselle des Œillets. The woman was nothing but an actress, but my dear, generous great-grandmother brought her into the royal court. And how do you think Mademoiselle des Œillets repaid her? By getting her mixed up in that terrible _affaire des poisons_! And all for the purpose of displacing my great-grandmother to become the king's next mistress! Don't you see, dear Adam, what terrible temptation jealously will lead a poor, weak woman into?"

Adam stood. He had had enough.

"I will not hear any more of this," he said, "Good day, Your Highness."

A slow smile spread over her lips as he left, and she called after him.

"A good day to you too, _Your Highness_."


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date! I am sorry for the delay, here's the new chapter!**

Belle was curled up in a large armchair, perusing a copy of _All's Well that Ends Well_ that she had snuck out of the library, when she heard a soft knock on the door. She glanced up, and seeing that neither Ms. Potts, nor Lumière, nor even Madame Armoire was present, carefully marked her place and went to the door herself. Outside was an elegantly dressed manservant, who looked her over imperiously.

"Excuse-moi, is Prince Adam within?" he asked with an arched brow.

"I'm afraid he is not," Belle answered with a friendly smile, hoping to soften the man's demeanor. It did not work.

"Do you know when he might be back?" the manservant asked in an even haughtier manner, "I have a most important letter for him."

"I don't think he'll be back for a couple more hours," Belle said, "But I can hold the letter for him, I am his wife."

The man looked startled, and glanced over her quickly again before regaining his composure and bowing deeply.

"Forgive me, Princess, I did not know it was you," he said quickly, "Of course, here is the letter. The king hopes to entertain you both soon."

He scurried off, leaving a shocked Belle behind. Apparently Adam had been telling the truth when he mentioned his first visit with the king…

Ms. Potts came in from the inner chambers, broom in hand, followed closely by Madame Armoire.

"Did I hear you talking to someone, love?"

"Yes," Belle said absently, and turned to Ms. Potts in amazement with the letter in her hand, "I think Adam and I are being invited to meet the king," she quickly broke the wax seal and skimmed over the words within. Her voice was strangled as she added, "Tonight."

Madame Armoire squealed loudly in delight.

"Oh how wonderful! I knew something like this would happen! Come immediately Belle, we must find the _perfect_ dress! I have just the thing, I am _so_ glad I had it sewn before we left the castle!"

She stopped suddenly, and frowned at Belle, "Madame, you didn't answer the door yourself did you? Especially wearing _that_?"

"I was the only one here and this is a perfectly clean dress," Belle answered, annoyed.

"Oh Madame, we must be quite a few steps above clean here!" Madame Armoire exclaimed, and looked to Ms. Potts for support.

"She is quite right, my dear," Ms. Potts said, giving Belle a kindly stern look, "And you must have one of us answer the door for you. We wouldn't want the other servants to talk."

"But I don't care if they talk," Belle insisted, "I do not know anyone here and no one knows me. I will not act here in a way that I would be ashamed of back home."

The two older women looked at each other and Ms. Potts began wringing her hands together.

"Love," she started, "we aren't home. We are in a strange place among powerful people and we must play by their rules. Think of the master – right now, his fate rests in the hands of his father. If the master missteps here, under his father's gaze…"

"I understand," Belle said with a sigh, "I will do better, from now on."

"That's the spirit, love," Ms. Potts said with a relieved smile.

"Now, Mistress," Madame Armoire said with barely-concealed excitement, "Shall we go look at your gowns?"

Adam walked along the corridor slowly back to his apartments, exhausted. Running around the palace, the scene with the comte, then the interaction with that Henriette woman… He was greatly looking forward to a quiet evening with his wife. Maybe she could read to him before he fell asleep.

"Master!"

Adam looked up in surprise to see Lumière running towards him.

"What is it?" Adam asked, his heart suddenly sinking, "Is Belle alright?"

"Yes, yes, yes, of course Master," Lumière said, waving away the question impatiently, "But we must return to the rooms _tout de suite_ – the king wishes to dine with you and Madame _tonight_!"

Adam groaned even as he was pulled along by Lumière, "Can't we say we're busy? I think I've become ill from our journey, I should stay in bed so that I don't infect the king."

Lumière looked at him incredulously, "Too busy for the king? Pretending to be sick? My dear master, there is something not right in your head. Come, we must get you dressed and you must see Madame. She looks _magnifique_!"

Adam decided that it probably would not hurt to go along with this.

His clothes were neatly laid out just inside the foyer, and with the speed in which Lumière helped him change, Adam suspected this had been carefully planned out.

"I see you anticipated me running late," he said dryly to Lumière. The other man shrugged.

"Old habits die hard, Master."

"Has Belle gone on ahead of us?" Adam asked, looking towards the other door as he adjusted a cuff on his jacket.

"No, Master, it seems she is running late too. Although in her case, I would not say it is her fault…"

Adam grinned, "Go ask Ms. Potts and Madame Armoire to release my wife."

When the inner door reopened some minutes later, Belle emerged, resplendent in a dark blue dress. Adam found that her frown as she maneuvered her skirts through the door only made her more adorable.

"My lady," he said, bowing and offering his hand to her, hoping he didn't sound too breathless in the face of her beauty.

"My lord," she said with a playful curtsey and a giggle as she placed her hand in his.

"Master," Lumière said discreetly from behind them, "I have arranged for the carriage to meet you at the door, it shall take you over to the main palace."

Bell frowned, "Do we have to? Can't we just walk over there?"

"That would not be proper," Lumière told her sternly, then smiled, "Besides, Madame, you have no time to lose! You must hurry! Go! Go!"

Quick steps brought them out of the building and into the carriage. The horses' brisk trot brought them to the palace almost immediately – looking over, Adam could see by the stubborn set of Belle's chin that she still thought they should have walked.

One of the king's servants greeted them at the palace door and quickly ushered them to the king's interior apartments, then into the small dining room.

It seemed as though they had arrived perfectly on time. The rest of the thirty or so guests were just beginning to take their seats. Adam hesitated, and looked around quickly to see where he should take Belle and himself. He did not know any of these lords or ladies; he did not want to offend any of them from sitting in the wrong place. He just wanted two quiet, out-of-the-way spots where he and Belle would be able to enjoy their meal and pass the evening away unnoticed by this flock.

Such hopes were dashed, however, when a servant came and quietly told Adam that the king wished for them to sit next to him. He could tell Belle was nervous, and he took a deep breath to calm himself before he led Belle to the head of the table, where the king was deep in conversation with another noble. As they approached, the king looked over, and smiled.

"I'm glad you made it, Adam," he said jovially as Adam bowed and Belle curtsied, "Cutting it a bit close, eh?"

"My apologies, Your Majesty, I was running late," Adam replied quickly, "May I introduce you to my wife, _Mademoiselle de Scorailles_."

"I am of course very pleased to meet you, Princess," the king said with a kind smile for Belle, and then called to the rest of the company, "Come now, everyone, sit down so we may eat!"

The chatter ceased only briefly as the food was brought out, but once the first few bites were taken, the noise resumed louder than ever. Adam gathered that there had been a fantastic hunt that day, and that this noble over here had performed wonderfully, but that one there had made a fool of himself, and yet another one hadn't even made an attempt…

Adam did not really care. He could sense Belle was still nervous, and the Beast sensed it, and was beginning to stir.

"Tell me, Princess," the king suddenly said, breaking off his previous conversation with the man next to him and speaking directly to Belle, "How are you enjoying your stay here so far? My people give me to understand that this is very new to you."

The Beast lifted his head warily. Adam had a feeling that the king had found out that Belle was not noble-born.

"I have been enjoying myself very much," Belle said, sounding calmer than Adam knew she felt, "Our journey here provided me with a wonderful opportunity to read some things I had never had time for."

"How relaxing," the king commented, "I myself wish I had time to delve into a simple romance or comedy, to lose myself in a silly little world for an afternoon."

"I wasn't just reading romances," Belle said, and Adam tensed more as he detected the note of irritation in her voice, "I have started reading some Montesquieu, and just today started a little bit of Voltaire."

"Pah, Voltaire," the king grimaced in annoyance, "Apparently I may ban his body from my city, but his books roam where they please. But Montesquieu, how interesting, Princess. He is quite good, although I have little use for books on statecraft myself. Might I suggest Newton's _Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica_? I cannot tear myself away from the sciences. Perhaps, though, it may be a little dull for you?"

"If my king suggests it, I'm sure I will find it fascinating," Belle said stubbornly. The king smiled, and Belle smiled back, and Adam watched in amazement as a spark of kinship flashed between them. His darling wife, was no one immune to her charms?

The two of them stayed engaged with each other for the rest of the meal. They spoke of people, places, and ideas that Adam had never heard of before. He tried to remember some of them ask Belle about later, but for the time being he could only sit there, mute.

He did not mind. He loved seeing Belle like this, in her element with someone well-read and boundlessly curious about the world. Perhaps this would form a solid relationship between her and the king, which could not hurt. There were far worse things that could happen in this palace. Perhaps he would find himself in a fortunate place where he was in favor both with the king and with his own father. Then maybe he would be able to take Belle back to their castle, and they could remain there always.

After dinner, the king led his guests into the next room for games and gambling. Belle whispered to Adam that she did not know any of the games, and Adam just as quietly admitted that he didn't know any of them either. They unobtrusively took their leave.

"That wasn't so bad," Belle said cheerfully as they progressed down the corridor.

"No, it wasn't," Adam agreed, and looped his arm around her waist, "How could it be, when I have such a brilliant wife?"

Belle looked worried for a second, "I wasn't too forward with the king, was I? He was just so fascinating to talk to – I really must read more books about science. Did you know there is a man named Mikhail Lomonosov who believes that we are made of millions of little tiny pieces of elements?"

"I did not know that," Adam answered with a smile, "I see you and your friend will have much more to research in the library tomorrow. How did things go today?"

"It was quite dull and I brought back one of Shakespeare's comedies to read afterwards," Belle admitted sheepishly, "But I think I did learn a lot, and perhaps tomorrow will be easier. How did you do today?"

"I ran some errands, was yelled at by a comte, I think the usual fare for as long as we're here," Adam said casually. He did not want to talk about the run-in with Henriette.

"My poor darling," Belle said with a smile, reaching up to stroke his chin, "Let's go back to our rooms and I'll read you some of my book, I think you'll like it."


	13. Chapter 13

**Gah! I am so ashamed, this chapter is so short! Please forgive me, life has been very obtrusive lately. Thank you for your follows, your favorites, and of course your reviews. Thank you to the lovely reviewer who pointed out my little error last chapter...how embarrassing! I will go back and fix that when I have some time. Hope everyone enjoys this new chapter, and review if you have a minute!**

It was again early when Adam was called to his father's apartments. His other brothers were already there, casually reclining on the couches and settees around the room. Persée had another of his ledgers open, and Léandre was engrossed in his own pile of letters. Trae was lying in a corner, a book over his face, asleep.

"Good morning, Father," Adam said as he approached the large desk, as was becoming his habit. His father wordlessly held out a letter, not even looking up.

"Don't leave yet," Prince Jacques said, "I have another one here."

He finished his letter with a flourish, sealed it, and sat back in his chair for a moment.

"Léandre," he began, "Did you manage to arrange a dinner with Princess Eleonora Maria Teresa of Savoy?"

"It has been arranged for next week, Father," Léandre answered, rising from his couch. Prince Jacques nodded over steepled fingers.

"Good," he said thoughtfully, "She should do nicely, if her father will allow it. First the king of Sweden's death, now this. I think we shall have a good week. Persée, bring those ledgers here. Adam, take this, you are excused."

Adam quickly made his escape with the missives, noting absently that Trae had vanished.

He carefully noted the names on the envelopes, realizing he had never met either recipient. Apparently his father's good mood could only extend so far…

After he had gained directions from a friendly servant, his path took him to the dark, interior hallways of the building where there was no light in this early hour. Torches still glimmered feebly along the walls, although many had burned out over the course of the night. Adam did not mind the dark so much; the Beast had lived in it for so long it made no difference.

"I've seen your wife, you know."

Adam turned to the voice, and saw Trae leaning against the wall, half-hidden in the shadows that flickered between the torches.

"You have?" Adam said, surprise robbing him of his words.

"Yes. She is very pretty, brother," Trae replied, "Such lovely brown hair, such grace in her step, and I swear there is a star caught in her hazel eyes."

"Thank you," Adam mumbled awkwardly, "Did you speak with her?"

"I rarely speak, brother. I prefer to watch."

Adam did not know what to say. Why was Trae, his most hated brother, talking casually with him here in a corridor?

"I see," Adam finally said. He wanted to turn and walk away, but Trae was still watching him with those pale, pale green eyes. Adam cast about for a topic, wondering what Trae was looking for.

"Have you heard about the king of Sweden?" Adam finally said, "I did not see when you left. How terrible, although it's clear that Father does not see it as such."

Trae's mouth twitched, his nostrils flared, and his eyes almost glowed as he continued to regard Adam wordlessly.

And suddenly Adam knew.

The king's death was no accident, and if it worked out so well for Prince Jacques, that was because Prince Jacques himself had arranged it.

And Trae had done it,

Trae's smile grew wider as he took in Adam's shocked expression.

"You've figured it out, Brother," he said softly, "But you are not running. Why are you not running?"

"I have no place to run to," Adam whispered. It was true. He could not leave the palace without his father's permission – Prince Jacques would forbid any servants, any carriage, any wagon from assisting Adam. He could not sneak out in the middle of the night, for he had Belle.

Who now also lived within the same palace as a cold-blooded killer.

"Why?" Adam hissed. Trae shrugged.

"We all serve a purpose to our dear father," he said casually, "Léandre is his little lordling, set to marry well above him and take the place our father always yearned for himself. Persée is his clever boy, keeping his pockets full even as Léandre maintains our place in this wretched society. Even you have a purpose, little brother. Did you realize that you are the only one of us to deliver notes to the king? And do you know what those notes contain?"

"No," Adam answered, his mouth dry.

"Well, little brother, they contain the same old argument that was born in our father's very heart the moment he drew breath. You see, he believes that our Grandfather Louis always meant to legitimize him. That is, of course, rubbish. If Louis had wanted him legitimized, he would have done so just days after his birth, as was done for Montespan's offspring. You see, every one of those letters you bring to the king follows this deluded dream of our father's, and each time you deliver a letter, you risk arousing the king's wrath and being thrown in some dark prison. Our father could not have his darling Léandre fulfill such a task, nor his useful Persée. I have my own uses for which he values me greatly, but you are disposable."

"What do you do for our father?" Adam asked, knowing what the answer would be.

"I do for him what he cannot ask others to do," Trae said simply, "I suppose I am also disposable, for if I am caught, he will not risk the family to help me."

"You kill for him," Adam whispered.

"And lie and cheat and steal," Trae listed off.

"Why are you telling me this?" Adam demanded.

"I like to make things fair," Trae answered, "I figured I should give you a chance. You know our father does not approve of your…connection. I will warn you this once, little brother; if your woman is seen again with the king, or any other lord, she may be the next silent request our father begs of me."


End file.
